by Charles King
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Transcriber's note
Some of the spellings and hyphenations in the original are unusual; theyhave not been changed. Minor punctuation errors have been correctedwithout notice. A few obvious typographical errors have been corrected,and they are listed at the end of this book.
STARLIGHT RANCH
AND
OTHER STORIES OF ARMYLIFE ON THE FRONTIER.
BY
CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.,
AUTHOR OF"MARION'S FAITH," "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," ETC.
PHILADELPHIA:J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.1891.
Copyright, 1890, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
CONTENTS.
PAGESTARLIGHT RANCH 7
WELL WON; OR, FROM THE PLAINS TO "THE POINT" 40
FROM "THE POINT" TO THE PLAINS 116
THE WORST MAN IN THE TROOP 201
VAN 234
STARLIGHT RANCH.
We were crouching round the bivouac fire, for the night was chill, andwe were yet high up along the summit of the great range. We had beenscouting through the mountains for ten days, steadily working southward,and, though far from our own station, our supplies were abundant, and itwas our leader's purpose to make a clean sweep of the line from oldSandy to the Salado, and fully settle the question as to whether therenegade Apaches had betaken themselves, as was possible, to the heightsof the Matitzal, or had made a break for their old haunts in the TontoBasin or along the foot-hills of the Black Mesa to the east. Strongscouting-parties had gone thitherward, too, for "the Chief" was bound tobring these Tontos to terms; but our orders were explicit: "Thoroughlyscout the east face of the Matitzal." We had capital Indian allies withus. Their eyes were keen, their legs tireless, and there had been badblood between them and the tribe now broken away from the reservation.They asked nothing better than a chance to shoot and kill them; so wecould feel well assured that if "Tonto sign" appeared anywhere along ourpath it would instantly be reported. But now we were south of theconfluence of Tonto Creek and the Wild Rye, and our scouts declared thatbeyond that point was the territory of the White Mountain Apaches,where we would not be likely to find the renegades.
East of us, as we lay there in the sheltered nook whence the glare ofour fire could not be seen, lay the deep valley of the Tonto brawlingalong its rocky bed on the way to join the Salado, a few short marchesfarther south. Beyond it, though we could not see them now, the peaksand "buttes" of the Sierra Ancha rolled up as massive foot-hills to theMogollon. All through there our scouting-parties had hitherto been ableto find Indians whenever they really wanted to. There were some officerswho couldn't find the Creek itself if they thought Apaches lurked alongits bank, and of such, some of us thought, was our leader.
In the dim twilight only a while before I had heard our chief packerexchanging confidences with one of the sergeants,--
"I tell you, Harry, if the old man were trying to steer clear of allpossibility of finding these Tontos, he couldn't have followed a bettertrack than ours has been. And he made it, too; did you notice? Everytime the scouts tried to work out to the left he would herd them allback--up-hill."
"We never did think the lieutenant had any too much sand," answered thesergeant, grimly; "but any man with half an eye can see that orders tothoroughly scout the east face of a range does not mean keep on top ofit as we've been doing. Why, in two more marches we'll be beyond theirstamping-ground entirely, and then it's only a slide down the west faceto bring us to those ranches in the Sandy Valley. Ever seen them?"
"No. I've never been this far down; but what do you want to bet that_that's_ what the lieutenant is aiming at? He wants to get a look atthat pretty girl all the fellows at Fort Phoenix are talking about."
"Dam'd old gray-haired rip! It would be just like him. With a wife andkids up at Sandy too."
There were officers in the party, junior in years of life and years ofservice to the gray-headed subaltern whom some odd fate had assigned tothe command of this detachment, nearly two complete "troops" of cavalrywith a pack-train of sturdy little mules to match. We all knew that, asorganized, one of our favorite captains had been assigned the command,and that between "the Chief," as we called our general, and him aperfect understanding existed as to just how thorough and searching thisscout should be. The general himself came down to Sandy to superintendthe start of the various commands, and rode away after a long interviewwith our good old colonel, and after seeing the two parties destined forthe Black Mesa and the Tonto Basin well on their way. We were to move atnightfall the following day, and within an hour of the time of startinga courier rode in from Prescott with despatches (it was before ourmilitary telegraph line was built), and the commander of thedivision--the superior of our Arizona chief--ordered Captain Tanner torepair at once to San Francisco as witness before an importantcourt-martial. A groan went up from more than one of us when we heardthe news, for it meant nothing less than that the command of the mostimportant expedition of all would now devolve upon the senior firstlieutenant, Gleason; and so much did it worry Mr. Blake, his junior byseveral files, that he went at once to Colonel Pelham, and begged to berelieved from duty with that column and ordered to overtake one of theothers. The colonel, of course, would listen to nothing of the kind, andto Gleason's immense and evident gratification we were marched forthunder his command. There had been no friction, however. Despite his graybeard, Gleason was not an old man, and he really strove to be courteousand conciliatory to his officers,--he was always considerate towards hismen; but by the time we had been out ten days, having accomplishednothing, most of us were thoroughly disgusted. Some few ventured toremonstrate. Angry words passed between the commander and Mr. Blake, andon the night on which our story begins there was throughout the commanda feeling that we were simply being trifled with.
The chat between our chief packer and Sergeant Merrick ceased instantlyas I came forward and passed them on the way to look over the herd guardof the little battalion, but it set me to thinking. This was not thefirst that the officers of the Sandy garrison had heard of those two new"ranches" established within the year down in the hot but fertilevalley, and not more than four hours' easy gallop from Fort Phoenix,where a couple of troops of "Ours" were stationed. The people who had soconfidently planted themselves there were evidently well to do, and theybrought with them a good-sized retinue of ranch- and herdsmen,--mainlyMexicans,--plenty of "stock," and a complete "camp outfit," which servedthem well until they could raise the adobe walls and finish theirhomesteads. Curiosity led occasional parties of officers or enlistedmen to spend a day in saddle and thus to visit these enterprisingneighbors. Such parties were always civilly received, invited todismount, and soon to take a bite of luncheon with the proprietors,while their horses were promptly led away, unsaddled, rubbed down, andat the proper time fed and watered. The officers, of course, hadintroduced themselves and proffered the hospitality and assistance ofthe fort. The proprietors had expressed all proper appreciation, anddeclared that if anything should happen to be needed they would be sureto call; but they were too busy, they explained, to make social visits.They were hard at work, as the gentlemen could see, getting up theirhouses and their corrals, for, as one of them expressed it, "We've cometo stay." There were three of th
ese pioneers; two of them, brothersevidently, gave the name of Crocker. The third, a tall, swarthy,all-over-frontiersman, was introduced by the others as Mr. Burnham.Subsequent investigations led to the fact that Burnham was first cousinto the Crockers. "Been long in Arizona?" had been asked, and the elderCrocker promptly replied, "No, only a year,--mostly prospecting."
The Crockers were building down towards the stream; but Burnham, fromsome freak which he did not explain, had driven his stakes and wasslowly getting up his walls half a mile south of the other homestead,and high up on a spur of foot-hill that stood at least three hundredfeet above the general level of the valley. From his "coigne of vantage"the whitewashed walls and the bright colors of the flag of the fortcould be dimly made out,--twenty odd miles down stream.
"Every now and then," said Captain Wayne, who happened up our way on ageneral court, "a bull-train--a small one--went past the fort on its wayup to the ranches, carrying lumber and all manner of supplies, but theynever stopped and camped near the post either going or coming, as othertrains were sure to do. They never seemed to want anything, even at thesutler's store, though the Lord knows there wasn't much there they_could_ want except tanglefoot and tobacco. The bull-train made perhapssix trips in as many months, and by that time the glasses at the fortcould make out that Burnham's place was all finished, but never once hadeither of the three proprietors put in an appearance, as invited, whichwas considered not only extraordinary but unneighborly, and everybodyquit riding out there."
"But the funniest thing," said Wayne, "happened one night when I wasofficer of the day. The road up-stream ran within a hundred yards of thepost of the sentry on No. 3, which post was back of the officer'squarters, and a quarter of a mile above the stables, corrals, etc. I wasmaking the rounds about one o'clock in the morning. The night was brightand clear, though the moon was low, and I came upon Dexter, one of thesharpest men in my troop, as the sentry on No. 3. After I had given himthe countersign and was about going on,--for there was no use in asking_him_ if he knew his orders,--he stopped me to ask if I had authorizedthe stable-sergeant to let out one of the ambulances within the hour.Of course I was amazed and said no. 'Well,' said he, 'not ten minutesago a four-mule ambulance drove up the road yonder going full tilt, andI thought something was wrong, but it was far beyond my challengelimit.' You can understand that I went to the stables on the jump, readyto scalp the sentry there, the sergeant of the guard, and everybodyelse. I sailed into the sentry first and he was utterly astonished; heswore that every horse, mule, and wagon was in its proper place. Irouted out the old stable-sergeant and we went through everything withhis lantern. There wasn't a spoke or a hoof missing. Then I went back toDexter and asked him what he'd been drinking, and he seemed much hurt. Itold him every wheel at the fort was in its proper rut and that nothingcould have gone out. Neither could there have been a four-mule ambulancefrom elsewhere. There wasn't a civilized corral within fifty milesexcept those new ranches up the valley, and _they_ had no such rig. Allthe same, Dexter stuck to his story, and it ended in our getting alantern and going down to the road. By Gad! he was right. There, in themoist, yielding sand, were the fresh tracks of a four-mule team and aConcord wagon or something of the same sort. So much for _that_ night!
"Next evening as a lot of us were sitting out on the major's piazza,and young Briggs of the infantry was holding forth on theconstellations,--you know he's a good deal of an astronomer,--Mrs.Powell suddenly turned to him with 'But you haven't told us the name ofthat bright planet low down there in the northern sky,' and we allturned and looked where she pointed. Briggs looked too. It was only alittle lower than some stars of the second and third magnitude that hehad been telling about only five minutes before, only it shone with aredder or yellower glare,--orange I suppose was the real color,--and wasclear and strong as the light of Jupiter.
"'That?' says Briggs. 'Why, that must be----Well, I own up. I declare Inever knew there was so big a star in that part of the firmament!'
"'Don't worry about it, Briggs, old boy,' drawled the major, who hadbeen squinting at it through a powerful glass he owns. 'That's terrafirmament. That planet's at the new ranch up on the spur of theMatitzal.'
"But that wasn't all. Two days after, Baker came in from a scout. He hadbeen over across the range and had stopped at Burnham's on his way down.He didn't see Burnham; he wasn't invited in, but he was full of hissubject. 'By _Jove!_ fellows. Have any of you been to the rancheslately? No? Well, then, I want to get some of the ladies to go up thereand call. In all my life I never saw so pretty a girl as was sittingthere on the piazza when I rode around the corner of the house._Pretty!_ She's lovely. Not Mexican. No, indeed! A real Americangirl,--a young lady, by Gad!'" That, then, explained the new light.
"And did that give the ranch the name by which it is known to you?" weasked Wayne.
"Yes. The ladies called it 'Starlight Ranch' from that night on. But notone of them has seen the girl. Mrs. Frazer and Mrs. Jennings actuallytook the long drive and asked for the ladies, and were civilly toldthat there were none at home. It was a Chinese servant who receivedthem. They inquired for Mr. Burnham and he was away too. They asked howmany ladies there were, and the Chinaman shook his head--'No sabe.' 'HadMr. Burnham's wife and daughter come?' 'No sabe.' 'Were Mr. Burnham andthe ladies over at the other ranch?' 'No sabe,' still affably grinning,and evidently personally pleased to see the strange ladies; but thatChinaman was no fool; he had his instructions and was carrying them out;and Mrs. Frazer, whose eyes are very keen, was confident that she sawthe curtains in an upper window gathered just so as to admit a pair ofeyes to peep down at the fort wagon with its fair occupants. But theface of which she caught a glimpse was not that of a young woman. Theygave the Chinaman their cards, which he curiously inspected and wasevidently at a loss what to do with, and after telling him to give themto the ladies when they came home they drove over to the Crocker Ranch.Here only Mexicans were visible about the premises, and, though Mrs.Frazer's Spanish was equal to the task of asking them for water forherself and friend, she could not get an intelligible reply from theswarthy Ganymede who brought them the brimming glasses as to theladies--_Las senoras_--at the other ranch. They asked for the Crockers,and the Mexican only vaguely pointed up the valley. It was in defeat andhumiliation that the ladies with their escort, Mr. Baker, returned tothe fort, but Baker rode up again and took a comrade with him, and theyboth saw the girl with the lovely face and form this time, and hadalmost accosted her when a sharp, stern voice called her within. Afortnight more and a dozen men, officers or soldiers, had rounded thatranch and had seen two women,--one middle-aged, the other a girl ofabout eighteen who was fair and bewitchingly pretty. Baker had bowed toher and she had smiled sweetly on him, even while being drawn withindoors. One or two men had cornered Burnham and began to ask questions.'Gentlemen,' said he, 'I'm a poor hand at talk. I've no education. I'velived on the frontier all my life. I mean no offence, but I cannotanswer your questions and I cannot ask you into my house. Forexplanation, I refer you to Mr. Crocker.' Then Baker and a chum of hisrode over and called on the elder Crocker, and asked for theexplanation. That only added to the strangeness of the thing.
"'It is true, gentlemen, that Mr. Burnham's wife and child are now withhim; but, partially because of her, his wife's, infirm health, andpartially because of a most distressing and unfortunate experience inhis past, our kinsman begs that no one will attempt to call at theranch. He appreciates all the courtesy the gentlemen and ladies at thefort would show, and have shown, but he feels compelled to decline allintercourse. We are beholden, in a measure, to Mr. Burnham, and have tobe guided by his wishes. We are young men compared to him, and it wasthrough him that we came to seek our fortune here, but he is virtuallythe head of both establishments.' Well. There was nothing more to besaid, and the boys came away. One thing more transpired. Burnham gave itout that he had lived in Texas before the war, and had fought all theway through in the Confederate service. He thought the officers oughtto know this. It was the ma
jor himself to whom he told it, and when themajor replied that he considered the war over and that that made nodifference, Burnham, with a clouded face replied, 'Well, mebbe itdon't--to you.' Whereupon the major fired up and told him that if hechose to be an unreconstructed reb, when Union officers and gentlemenwere only striving to be civil to him, he might 'go ahead and be d--d,'and came away in high dudgeon." And so matters stood up to the last wehad heard from Fort Phoenix, except for one letter which Mrs. Frazerwrote to Mrs. Turner at Sandy, perhaps purely out of feminine mischief,because a year or so previous Baker, as a junior second lieutenant, wasdoing the devoted to Mrs. Turner, a species of mildly amatoryapprenticeship which most of the young officers seemed impelled to serveon first joining. "We are having such a romance here at Phoenix. Youhave doubtless heard of the beautiful girl at 'Starlight Ranch,' as wecall the Burnham place, up the valley. Everybody who called has beenrebuffed; but, after catching a few glimpses of her, Mr. Baker becamecompletely infatuated and rode up that way three or four times a week.Of late he has ceased going in the daytime, but it is known that herides out towards dusk and gets back long after midnight, sometimes nottill morning. Of course it takes four hours, nearly, to come from therefull-speed, but though Major Tracy will admit nothing, it must be thatMr. Baker has his permission to be away at night. We all believe that itis another case of love laughing at locksmiths and that in some way theycontrive to meet. One thing is certain,--Mr. Baker is desperately inlove and will permit no trifling with him on the subject." Ordinarily, Isuppose, such a letter would have been gall and wormwood to Mrs. Turner,but as young Hunter, a new appointment, was now a devotee, and as it wasa piece of romantic news which interested all Camp Sandy, she read theletter to one lady after another, and so it became public property. OldCatnip, as we called the colonel, was disposed to be a little worried onthe subject. Baker was a youngster in whom he had some interest as beinga distant connection of his wife's, but Mrs. Pelham had not come toArizona with us, and the good old fellow was living _en garcon_ with theMess, where, of course, the matter was discussed in all its bearings.
All these things recurred to me as I pottered around through the herdsexamining side-lines, etc., and looking up the guards. Ordinarily ourscouting parties were so small that we had no such thing as anofficer-of-the-day,--nor had we now when Gleason could have been excusedfor ordering one, but he evidently desired to do nothing that mightannoy his officers. He _might_ want them to stand by him when it came toreporting the route and result of the scout. All the same, he expectedthat the troop officers would give personal supervision to theircommand, and especially to look after their "herds," and it was thisduty that took me away from the group chatting about the bivouac firepreparatory to "turning in" for the night.
When I got back, a tall, gray-haired trooper was "standing attention" infront of the commanding officer, and had evidently just made somereport, for Mr. Gleason nodded his head appreciatively and then said,kindly,--
"You did perfectly right, corporal. Instruct your men to keep a lookoutfor it, and if seen again to-night to call me at once. I'll bring myfield-glass and we'll see what it is."
The trooper raised his left hand to the "carried" carbine in salute andturned away. When he was out of earshot, Gleason spoke to the silentgroup,--
"Now, there's a case in point. If I had command of a troop and could getold Potts into it I could make something of him, and I know it."
Gleason had consummate faith in his "system" with the rank and file, andno respect for that of any of the captains. Nobody said anything. Blakehated him and puffed unconcernedly at his pipe, with a display ofabsolute indifference to his superior's views that the latter did notfail to note. The others knew what a trial "old Potts" had been to histroop commander, and did not believe that Gleason could "reform" him atwill. The silence was embarrassing, so I inquired,--
"What had he to report?"
"Oh, nothing of any consequence. He and one of the sentries saw whatthey took to be an Indian signal-fire up Tonto Creek. It soon smoulderedaway,--but I always make it a point to show respect to these oldsoldiers."
"You show d--d little respect for their reports all the same," saidBlake, suddenly shooting up on a pair of legs that looked like stilts."An Indian signal-fire is a matter of a heap of consequence in myopinion;" and he wrathfully stalked away.
For some reason Gleason saw fit to take no notice of this piece ofinsubordination. Placidly he resumed his chat,--
"Now, you gentlemen seem skeptical about Potts. Do any of you know hishistory?"
"Well, I know he's about the oldest soldier in the regiment; that heserved in the First Dragoons when they were in Arizona twenty years ago,and that he gets drunk as a boiled owl every pay-day," was an immediateanswer.
"Very good as far as it goes," replied Gleason, with a superior smile;"but I'll just tell you a chapter in his life he never speaks of and Inever dreamed of until the last time I was in San Francisco. There I metold General Starr at the 'Occidental,' and almost the first thing he didwas to inquire for Potts, and then he told me about him. He was one ofthe finest sergeants in Starr's troop in '53,--a dashing, handsomefellow,--and while in at Fort Leavenworth he had fallen in love with,won, and married as pretty a young girl as ever came into the regiment.She came out to New Mexico with the detachment with which he served, andwas the belle of all the '_bailes_' given either by the 'greasers' orthe enlisted men. He was proud of her as he could be, and old Starrswore that the few ladies of the regiment who were with them at old FortFillmore or Stanton were really jealous of her. Even some of the youngofficers got to saying sweet things to her, and Potts came to thecaptain about it, and he had it stopped; but the girl's head was turned.There was a handsome young fellow in the sutler's store who kept makingher presents on the sly, and when at last Potts found it out he nearlyhammered the life out of him. Then came that campaign against theJicarilla Apaches, and Potts had to go with his troop and leave her atthe cantonment, where, to be sure, there were ladies and plenty ofpeople to look after her; and in the fight at Cieneguilla poor Potts wasbadly wounded, and it was some months before they got back; and meantimethe sutler fellow had got in his work, and when the command finally camein with its wounded they had skipped, no one knew where. If Potts hadn'tbeen taken down with brain fever on top of his wound he would havefollowed their trail, desertion or no desertion, but he was a broken manwhen he got out of hospital. The last thing old Starr said to me was,'Now, Gleason, I want you to be kind to my old sergeant; he served allthrough the war, and I've never forgiven them in the First for goingback on him and refusing to re-enlist him; but the captains, one andall, said it was no use; he had sunk lower and lower; was perfectlyunreliable; spent nine-tenths of his time in the guard-house and all hismoney in whiskey; and one after another they refused to take him.'"
"How'd we happen to get him, then?" queried one of our party.
"He showed up at San Francisco, neat as a new pin; exhibited severalfine discharges, but said nothing of the last two, and was taken intothe regiment as we were going through. Of course, its pretty much asthey said in the First when we're in garrison, but, once out scouting,days away from a drop of 'tanglefoot,' and he does first rate. That'show he got his corporal's chevrons."
"He'll lose 'em again before we're back at Sandy forty-eight hours,"growled Blake, strolling up to the party again.
But he did not. Prophecies failed this time, and old Potts wore thosechevrons to the last.
He was a good prophet and a keen judge of human nature as exemplified inGleason, who said that "the old man" was planning for a visit to the newranches above Fort Phoenix. A day or two farther we plodded along downthe range, our Indian scouts looking reproachfully--even sullenly--atthe commander at every halt, and then came the order to turn back. Twomarches more, and the little command went into bivouac close under theeaves of Fort Phoenix and we were exchanging jovial greetings with ourbrother officers at the post. Turning over the command to LieutenantBlake, Mr. Gleason went up into t
he garrison with his own particularpack-mule; billeted himself on the infantry commanding officer--themajor--and in a short time appeared freshly-shaved and in the neatestpossible undress uniform, ready to call upon the few ladies at the post,and of course to make frequent reference to "my battalion," or "mycommand," down beyond the dusty, dismal corrals. The rest of us, havingcome out for business, had no uniforms, nothing but the rough field,scouting rig we wore on such duty, and every man's chin was bristlingwith a two-weeks'-old beard.
"I'm going to report Gleason for this thing," swore Blake; "you see if Idon't, the moment we get back."
The rest of us were "hopping mad," too, but held our tongues so long aswe were around Phoenix. We did not want them there to believe therewas dissension and almost mutiny impending. Some of us got permissionfrom Blake to go up to the post with its hospitable officers, and I wasone who strolled up to "the store" after dark. There we found the major,and Captain Frazer, and Captain Jennings, and most of the youngsters,but Baker was absent. Of course the talk soon drifted to and settled on"Starlight Ranch," and by tattoo most of the garrison crowd were talkinglike so many Prussians, all at top-voice and all at once. Every manseemed to have some theory of his own with regard to the peculiarconduct of Mr. Burnham, but no one dissented from the quiet remark ofCaptain Frazer:
"As for Baker's relations with the daughter, he is simply desperately inlove and means to marry her. He tells my wife that she is educated andfar more refined than her surroundings would indicate, but that he isrefused audience by both Burnham and his wife, and it is only at extremerisk that he is able to meet his lady-love at all. Some nights she isentirely prevented from slipping out to see him."
Presently in came Gleason, beaming and triumphant from his round ofcalls among the fair sex, and ready now for the game he loved above allthings on earth,--poker. For reasons which need not be elaborated hereno officer in our command would play with him, and an ugly rumor wasgoing the rounds at Sandy, just before we came away, that, in a game atOlsen's ranch on the Aqua Fria about three weeks before, he had had hisface slapped by Lieutenant Ray of our own regiment. But Ray had gone tohis lonely post at Camp Cameron, and there was no one by whom we couldverify it except some ranchmen, who declared that Gleason had cheated atcards, and Ray "had been a little too full," as they put it, to detectthe fraud until it seemed to flash upon him all of a sudden. A gamebegan, however, with three local officers as participants, so presentlyCarroll and I withdrew and went back to bivouac.
"Have you seen anything of Corporal Potts?" was the first question askedby Mr. Blake.
"Not a thing. Why? Is he missing?"
"Been missing for an hour. He was talking with some of these garrisonsoldiers here just after the men had come in from the herd, and what I'mafraid of is that he'll go up into the post and get bilin' full there.I've sent other non-commissioned officers after him, but they cannotfind him. He hasn't even looked in at the store, so the bar-tenderswears."
"The sly old rascal!" said Carroll. "He knows perfectly well how to getall the liquor he wants without exposing himself in the least. No doubtif the bar-tender were asked if he had not filled some flasks thisevening he would say yes, and Potts is probably stretched outcomfortably in the forage-loft of one of the stables, with a canteen ofwater and his flask of bug-juice, prepared to make a night of it."
Blake moodily gazed into the embers of the bivouac-fire. Never had weseen him so utterly unlike himself as on this burlesque of a scout, andnow that we were virtually homeward-bound, and empty-handed too, he wascompletely weighed down by the consciousness of our lost opportunities.If something could only have happened to Gleason before the start, sothat the command might have devolved on Blake, we all felt that a verydifferent account could have been rendered; for with all his rattling,ranting fun around the garrison, he was a gallant and dutiful soldier inthe field. It was now after ten o'clock; most of the men, rolled intheir blankets, were sleeping on the scant turf that could be found atintervals in the half-sandy soil below the corrals and stables. Theherds of the two troops and the pack-mules were all cropping peacefullyat the hay that had been liberally distributed among them because therewas hardly grass enough for a "burro." We were all ready to turn in, butthere stood our temporary commander, his long legs a-straddle, his handsclasped behind him, and the flickering light of the fire betraying inhis face both profound dejection and disgust.
"I wouldn't care so much," said he at last, "but it will give Gleason achance to say that things always go wrong when he's away. Did you seehim up at the post?" he suddenly asked. "What was he doing, Carroll?"
"Poker," was the sententious reply.
"What?" shouted Blake. "Poker? 'I thank thee, good Tubal,--goodnews,--good news!'" he ranted, with almost joyous relapse into his oldmanner. "'O Lady Fortune, stand you auspicious', for those fellows atPhoenix, I mean, and may they scoop our worthy chieftain of his lastducat. See what it means, fellows. Win or lose, he'll play all night,he'll drink much if it go agin' him, and I pray it may. He'll be toosick, when morning comes, to join us, and, by my faith, we'll leave hishorse and orderly and march away without him. As for Potts,--an heappear not,--we'll let him play hide-and-seek with his would-bereformer. Hullo! What's that?"
There was a sound of alternate shout and challenge towards where thehorses were herded on the level stretch below us. The sergeant of theguard was running rapidly thither as Carroll and I reached the corner ofthe corral. Half a minute's brisk spurt brought us to the scene.
"What's the trouble, sentry?" panted the sergeant.
"One of our fellows trying to take a horse. I was down on this side ofthe herd when I seen him at the other end trying to loose a side-line.It was just light enough by the moon to let me see the figure, but Icouldn't make out who 'twas. I challenged and ran and yelled for thecorporal, too, but he got away through the horses somehow. Murphy, who'son the other side of the herds, seen him and challenged too."
"Did he answer?"
"Not a word, sir."
"Count your horses, sergeant, and see if all are here," was ordered.Then we hurried over to Murphy's post.
"Who was the man? Could you make him out?"
"Not plainly, sir; but I think it was one of our own command," and poorMurphy hesitated and stammered. He hated to "give away," as he expressedit, one of his own troop. But his questioners were inexorable.
"What man did this one most look like, so far as you could judge?"
"Well, sir, I hate to suspicion anybody, but 'twas more like CorporalPotts he looked. Sure, if 'twas him, he must ha' been drinkin', for thecorporal's not the man to try and run off a horse when he's in his sobersinses."
The waning moon gave hardly enough light for effective search, but wedid our best. Blake came out and joined us, looking very grave when heheard the news. Eleven o'clock came, and we gave it up. Not a sign ofthe marauder could we find. Potts was still absent from the bivouac whenwe got back, but Blake determined to make no further effort to find him.Long before midnight we were all soundly sleeping, and the next thing Iknew my orderly was shaking me by the arm and announcing breakfast.Reveille was just being sounded up at the garrison. The sun had not yetclimbed high enough to peep over the Matitzal, but it was broaddaylight. In ten minutes Carroll and I were enjoying our coffee and_frijoles_; Blake had ridden up into the garrison. Potts was stillabsent; and so, as we expected, was Mr. Gleason.
Half an hour more, and in long column of twos, and followed by ourpack-train, the command was filing out along the road whereon "No. 3"had seen the ambulance darting by in the darkness. Blake had come backfrom the post with a flush of anger on his face and with lipscompressed. He did not even dismount. "Saddle up at once" was all hesaid until he gave the commands to mount and march. Opposite thequarters of the commanding officer we were riding at ease, and there heshook his gauntleted fist at the whitewashed walls, and had recourse tohis usual safety-valve,--
"'Take heed, my lords, the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short th
at fraudful man,'
and may the devil fly away with him! What d'ye think he told me when Iwent to hunt him up?"
There was no suitable conjecture.
"He said to march ahead, leaving his horse, Potts's, and his orderly's,also the pack-mule: he would follow at his leisure. He had given Pottsauthority to wait and go with him, but did not consider it necessary tonotify me."
"Where was he?"
"Still at the store, playing with the trader and some understrappers.Didn't seem to be drunk, either."
And that was the last we heard of our commander until late in theevening. We were then in bivouac on the west bank of the Sandy withinshort rifle-range of the buildings of Crocker's Ranch on the other side.There the lights burned brightly, and some of our people who had goneacross had been courteously received, despite a certain constraint andnervousness displayed by the two brothers. At "Starlight," however,nearly a mile away from us, all was silence and darkness. We had studiedit curiously as we marched up along the west shore, and some of the menhad asked permission to fall out and ride over there, "just to see it,"but Blake had refused. The Sandy was easily fordable on horsebackanywhere, and the Crockers, for the convenience of their ranch people,had placed a lot of bowlders and heaps of stones in such position thatthey served as a foot-path opposite their corrals. But Blake said hewould rather none of his people intruded at "Starlight," and so ithappened that we were around the fire when Gleason rode in about nineo'clock, and with him Lieutenant Baker, also the recreant Potts.
"You may retain command, Mr. Blake," said the former, thickly. "I havean engagement this evening."
In an instant Baker was at my side. We had not met before since he waswearing the gray at the Point.
"For God's sake, don't let him follow me,--but _you_,--come if youpossibly can. I'll slip off into the willows up-stream as soon as I cando so without his seeing."
I signalled Blake to join us, and presently he sauntered over our way,Gleason meantime admonishing his camp cook that he expected to have thevery best hot supper for himself and his friend, Lieutenant Baker, readyin twenty minutes,--twenty minutes, for they had an importantengagement, an _affaire de coor_, by Jove!
"You fellows know something of this matter," said Baker, hurriedly; "butI cannot begin to tell you how troubled I am. Something is wrong with_her_. She has not met me once this week, and the house is still as agrave. I must see her. She is either ill or imprisoned by her people, orcarried away. God only knows why that hound Burnham forbids me thehouse. I cannot see him. I've never seen his wife. The door is barredagainst me and I cannot force an entrance. For a while she was able toslip out late in the evening and meet me down the hill-side, but theymust have detected her in some way. I do not even know that she isthere, but to-night I _mean_ to know. If she is within those walls--andalive--she will answer my signal. But for heaven's sake keep thatdrunken wretch from going over there. He's bent on it. The major gaveme leave again for to-night, provided I would see Gleason safely to yourcamp, and he has been maundering all the way out about how _he_ knewmore'n I did,--he and Potts, who's half-drunk too,--and how he meant tosee me through in this matter."
"Well, here," said Blake, "there's only one thing to be done. You twoslip away at once; get your horses, and ford the Sandy well below camp.I'll try and keep him occupied."
In three minutes we were off, leading our steeds until a hundred yardsor so away from the fires, then mounting and moving at rapid walk.Following Baker's lead, I rode along, wondering what manner of adventurethis was apt to be. I expected him to make an early crossing of thestream, but he did not. "The only fords I know," said he, "are downbelow Starlight," and so it happened that we made a wide _detour_; butduring that dark ride he told me frankly how matters stood. Zoe Burnhamhad promised to be his wife, and had fully returned his love, but shewas deeply attached to her poor mother, whose health was utterly broken,and who seemed to stand in dread of her father. The girl could not bearto leave her mother, though he had implored her to do so and be marriedat once. "She told me the last time I saw her that old Burnham had swornto kill me if he caught me around the place, so I have to come armed,you see;" and he exhibited his heavy revolver. "There's something shadyabout the old man, but I don't know what it is."
At last we crossed the stream, and soon reached a point where wedismounted and fastened our horses among the willows; then slowly andcautiously began the ascent to the ranch. The slope here was long andgradual, and before we had gone fifty yards Baker laid his hand on myarm.
"Wait. Hush!" he said.
Listening, we could distinctly hear the crunching of horses' hoofs, butin the darkness (for the old moon was not yet showing over the range tothe east) we could distinguish nothing. One thing was certain: thosehoofs were going towards the ranch.
"Heavens!" said Baker. "Do you suppose that Gleason has got the start ofus after all? There's no telling what mischief he may do. He swore hewould stand inside those walls to-night, for there was no Chinaman onearth whom he could not bribe."
We pushed ahead at the run now, but within a minute I plunged into someunseen hollow; my Mexican spurs tangled, and down I went heavily uponthe ground. The shock was severe, and for an instant I lay therehalf-stunned. Baker was by my side in the twinkling of an eye full ofanxiety and sympathy. I was not injured in the slightest, but the breathwas knocked out of me, and it was some minutes before I could forgeahead again. We reached the foot of the steep slope; we clamberedpainfully--at least I did--to the crest, and there stood the blackoutline of Starlight Ranch, with only a glimmer of light shining throughthe windows here and there where the shades did not completely cover thespace. In front were three horses held by a cavalry trooper.
"Whose horses are these?" panted Baker.
"Lieutenant Gleason's, sir. Him and Corporal Potts has gone roundbehind the ranch with a Chinaman they found takin' in water."
And then, just at that instant, so piercing, so agonized, so fearfulthat even the three horses started back snorting and terrified, thererang out on the still night air the most awful shriek I ever heard, thewail of a woman in horror and dismay. Then dull, heavy blows; oaths,curses, stifled exclamations; a fall that shook the windows; Gleason'svoice commanding, entreating; a shrill Chinese jabber; a rush throughthe hall; more blows; gasps; curses; more unavailing orders in Gleason'swell-known voice; then a sudden pistol shot, a scream of "Oh, my God!"then moans, and then silence. The casement on the second floor wasthrown open, and a fair young face and form were outlined upon thebright light within; a girlish voice called, imploringly,--
"Harry! Harry! Oh, help, if you are there! They are killing father!"
But at the first sound Harry Baker had sprung from my side anddisappeared in the darkness.
"We are friends," I shouted to her,--"Harry Baker's friends. He has goneround to the rear entrance." Then I made a dash for the front door,shaking, kicking, and hammering with all my might. I had no idea how tofind the rear entrance in the darkness. Presently it was opened by thestill chattering, jabbering Chinaman, his face pasty with terror andexcitement, and the sight that met my eyes was one not soon to beforgotten.
A broad hall opened straight before me, with a stairway leading to thesecond floor. A lamp with burnished reflector was burning brightlymidway down its length. Another just like it fully lighted a big room tomy left,--the dining-room, evidently,--on the floor of which, surroundedby overturned chairs, was lying a woman in a deathlike swoon. Indeed, Ithought at first she was dead. In the room to my right, only dimlylighted, a tall man in shirt-sleeves was slowly crawling to a sofa,unsteadily assisted by Gleason; and as I stepped inside, Corporal Potts,who was leaning against the wall at the other end of the room pressinghis hand to his side and with ashen face, sank suddenly to the floor,doubled up in a pool of his own blood. In the dining-room, in the hall,everywhere that I could see, were the marks of a fearful struggle. Theman on the sofa gasped faintly, "Water," and I ran into the dining-roomand hastened back with a brimming goblet.
>
"What does it all mean?" I demanded of Gleason.
Big drops of sweat were pouring down his pallid face. The fearful scenehad entirely sobered him.
"Potts has found the man who robbed him of his wife. That's she on thefloor yonder. Go and help her."
But she was already coming to and beginning to stare wildly about her. Aglass of water helped to revive her. She staggered across the hall, andthen, with a moan of misery and horror at the sight, threw herself uponher knees, not beside the sofa where Burnham lay gasping, but on thefloor where lay our poor old corporal. In an instant she had his head inher lap and was crooning over the senseless clay, swaying her body toand fro as she piteously called to him,--
"Frank, Frank! Oh, for the love of Jesus, speak to me! Frank, dearFrank, my husband, my own! Oh, for God's sake, open your eyes and lookat me! I wasn't as wicked as they made me out, Frank, God knows Iwasn't. I tried to get back to you, but Pierce there swore you weredead,--swore you were killed at Cieneguilla. Oh, Frank, Frank, open youreyes! _Do_ hear me, husband. O God, don't let him die! Oh, for pity'ssake, gentlemen, can't you do something? Can't you bring him to? He musthear me! He must know how I've been lied to all these years!"
"Quick! Take this and see if you can bring him round," said Gleason,tossing me his flask. I knelt and poured the burning spirit into hisopen mouth. There were a few gurgles, half-conscious efforts to swallow,and then--success. He opened his glazing eyes and looked up into theface of his wife. His lips moved and he called her by name. She raisedhim higher in her arms, pillowing his head upon her bosom, and coveredhis face with frantic kisses. The sight seemed too much for "Burnham."His face worked and twisted with rage; he ground out curses andblasphemy between his clinched teeth; he even strove to rise from thesofa, but Gleason forced him back. Meantime, the poor woman's wildremorse and lamentations were poured into the ears of the dying man.
"Tell me you believe me, Frank. Tell me you forgive me. O God! you don'tknow what my life has been with him. When I found out that it was all alie about your being killed at Cieneguilla, he beat me like a slave. Hehad to go and fight in the war. They made him; they conscripted him; andwhen he got back he brought me papers to show you were killed in one ofthe Virginia battles. I gave up hope then for good and all."
Just then who should come springing down the stairs but Baker, who hadevidently been calming and soothing his lady-love aloft. He steppedquickly into the parlor.
"Have you sent for a surgeon?" he asked.
The sound of his voice seemed to rouse "Burnham" to renewed life andraging hate.
"Surgeons be damned!" he gasped. "I'm past all surgery; but thank GodI've given that ruffian what'll send him to hell before I get there! Andyou--_you_"--and here he made a frantic grab for the revolver that layupon the floor, but Gleason kicked it away--"you, young hound, I meantto have wound you up before I got through. But I can jeer atyou--God-forsaken idiot--I can triumph over you;" and he stretched fortha quivering, menacing arm and hand. "You _would_ have your way--damnyou!--so take it. You've given your love to a bastard,--that's what Zoeis."
Baker stood like one turned suddenly into stone. But from the other endof the room came prompt, wrathful, and with the ring of truth in herearnest protest, the mother's loud defence of her child.
"It's a lie,--a fiendish and malignant lie,--and he knows it. Here liesher father, my own husband, murdered by that scoundrel there. Herbaptismal certificate is in my room. I've kept it all these years wherehe never could get it. No, Frank, she's your own, your own baby, whomyou never saw. Go--go and bring her. He _must_ see his baby-girl. Oh,my darling, don't--don't go until you see her." And again she coveredthe ashen face with her kisses. I knelt and put the flask to his lipsand he eagerly swallowed a few drops. Baker had turned and dartedup-stairs. "Burnham's" late effort had proved too much for him. He hadfainted away, and the blood was welling afresh from several wounds.
A moment more and Baker reappeared, leading his betrothed. With herlong, golden hair rippling down her back, her face white as death, andher eyes wild with dread, she was yet one of the loveliest pictures Iever dreamed of. Obedient to her mother's signal, she knelt close besidethem, saying no word.
"Zoe, darling, this is your own father; the one I told you of lastwinter."
Old Potts seemed struggling to rise; an inexpressible tenderness shoneover his rugged, bearded face; his eyes fastened themselves on thelovely girl before him with a look almost as of wonderment; his lipsseemed striving to whisper her name. His wife raised him still higher,and Baker reverently knelt and supported the shoulder of the dying man.There was the silence of the grave in the dimly-lighted room. Slowly,tremulously the arm in the old blue blouse was raised and extendedtowards the kneeling girl. Lowly she bent, clasping her hands and withthe tears now welling from her eyes. One moment more and the witheredold hand that for quarter of a century had grasped the sabre-hilt in theservice of our common country slowly fell until it rested on thatbeautiful, golden head,--one little second or two, in which the lipsseemed to murmur a prayer and the fast glazing eyes were fixed ininfinite tenderness upon his only child. Then suddenly they sought theface of his sobbing wife,--a quick, faint smile, a sigh, and the handdropped to the floor. The old trooper's life had gone out inbenediction.
* * * * *
Of course there was trouble all around before that wretched affair wasexplained. Gleason came within an ace of court-martial, but escaped itby saying that he knew of "Burnham's" threats against the life ofLieutenant Baker, and that he went to the ranch in search of the latterand to get him out of danger. They met the Chinaman outside drawingwater, and he ushered them in the back way because it was the nearest.Potts asked to go with him that he might see if this was his long-lostwife,--so said Gleason,--and the instant she caught sight of him sheshrieked and fainted, and the two men sprang at each other like tigers.Knives were drawn in a minute. Then Burnham fled through the hall,snatched a revolver from its rack, and fired the fatal shot. The surgeonfrom Fort Phoenix reached them early the next morning, a messengerhaving been despatched from Crocker's ranch before eleven at night, butall his skill could not save "Burnham," now known to be Pierce, theex-sutler clerk of the early Fifties. He had prospered and made moneyever since the close of the war, and Zoe had been thoroughly welleducated in the East before the poor child was summoned to share hermother's exile. His mania seemed to be to avoid all possibility ofcontact with the troops, but the Crockers had given such glowingaccounts of the land near Fort Phoenix, and they were so positivelyassured that there need be no intercourse whatever with that post, thathe determined to risk it. But, go where he would, his sin had found himout.
The long hot summer followed, but it often happened that before manyweeks there were interchanges of visits between the fort and the ranch.The ladies insisted that the widow should come thither for change andcheer, and Zoe's appearance at Phoenix was the sensation of the year.Baker was in the seventh heaven. "Burnham," it was found, had a certainsense of justice, for his will had been made long before, and everythinghe possessed was left unreservedly to the woman whom he had betrayedand, in his tigerish way, doubtless loved, for he had married her in'65, the instant he succeeded in convincing her that Potts was reallydead.
So far from combating the will, both the Crockers were cordial in theirsupport. Indeed, it was the elder brother who told the widow of itsexistence. They had known her and her story many a year, and were readyto devote themselves to her service now. The junior moved up to the"Burnham" place to take general charge and look after matters, for theproperty was every day increasing in value. And so matters went untilthe fall, and then, one lovely evening, in the little wooden chapel atthe old fort, there was a gathering such as its walls had never knownbefore; and the loveliest bride that Arizona ever saw, blushing,smiling, and radiantly happy, received the congratulations of the entiregarrison and of delegations from almost every post in the department.
A few years ago, to the sorrow of everybody in
the regiment, Mr. andMrs. Harry Baker bade it good-by forever. The fond old mother who had solong watched over the growing property for "her children," as she calledthem, had no longer the strength the duties required. Crocker had takenunto himself a helpmate and was needed at his own place, and our gallantand genial comrade with his sweet wife left us only when it becameevident to all at Phoenix that a new master was needed at StarlightRanch.
WELL WON;
OR,
FROM THE PLAINS TO "THE POINT."