A Trooper Galahad

by Charles King

  CHAPTER VI.

  Ten days passed. Barclay had become an institution at Fort Worth, yetopinions were as divided and talk of him as constant as before he came.First and foremost, he had met Mrs. Winn, and his demeanor on thatpresumably trying occasion had proved a distinct disappointment. Winnwas recovering health, if not spirits. A stage-load of officers andladies had come from the cantonment to spend forty-eight hours, and abig dance was prescribed for their benefit. Mrs. Winn danced divinely,and never looked so well as when with a suitable partner on a suitablefloor. Those were the days when we raved over the "Mabel," the "Guards,"the "Maude," and the "Hilda" waltzes, Godfrey's melodiouscreations,--when the galop and _trois temps_ were going out, and we"Boston dipped" to every tune from Pat Malloy to Five O'Clock in theMorning, and the Worth orchestra was a good one when the first violinwasn't drunk, a condition which had to be provided against withassiduous care. The party arrived during one of his lucid intervals,and the adjutant promptly placed the artist under bonds to shun the cupuntil after the guests had gone; then he could fill up to his heart'scontent and no fear of a fine. Winn couldn't attend, but Laura waslooking wan and sallow. She needed air and exercise, and her husbandurged her to accept Mr. Brayton's escort and go; so did Collabone; sodid her own inclination. Superbly gowned and coiffed and otherwisedecorated, she went, and her entrance was the sensation of the evening.It was long after ten when she appeared. The hop was in full blast; thebig room, gayly decorated, was throbbing with the rhythmic movement ofthe closing figure of the Lancers. Almost everybody was on the floor,for energetic were our dancers in those bygone days. Just as the musiccame to full stop, and with joyous laughter and merry words of partingthe sets broke up, the women and girls, middle-aged or young (they nevergrow old in the army), clinging to their partners' arms, fanning,possibly, their flushed faces, were escorted to their seats, and thefloor like magic was cleared for the coming waltz. The group at theflag-draped entrance parted right and left, making way for a youngofficer in cavalry uniform at whom nobody so much as glanced, because ofthe tall and radiant woman at his side, on whom all eyes were centred."Look at Laura Winn," was the whisper that flew from womanly lip to lip."Isn't she simply superb?" "Look at Mrs. Winn," muttered many a man, hiseyes lighting at the sight. "Isn't she just stunning?"

  And then people began to hunt for Barclay.

  He was standing at the moment talking quietly with Mrs. Frazier, who wasmaking much of the young captain now, and was accused of having hopes ofhim on account of her eldest darling, who had dined by his side threedifferent times at three different houses during the week, and wastherefore said to be "receiving considerable attention." But the hush oflaughter and miscellaneous chatter almost instantly attracted thematron's attention. She glanced at the door, gasped involuntarily, andthen as suddenly turned and narrowly watched him, for he too noted thelull in conversation, and, slowly facing the doorway, saw before him notten paces away the woman who was to have been his wife, gazing straightat him as though challenging him to look and be blinded, as blinded byher beauty he had been before. She was only a young, immature, untaughtgirl then, ignorant of her powers. Now the soft bloom was gone, but inits place there lurked among the tiny threads of lines or wrinkles justforming at the corners of her brilliant eyes, and in the witchingcurves about her mobile, sensitive, exquisite lips, a charm beside whichher virgin graces were cold and formal. She had been what all men calleda wonderfully pretty girl. She was now what many women termed adangerously beautiful woman, and she knew it well. When we had no oneespecially selected to "receive" in those days, it was a sort ofgarrison custom for everybody to present himself or herself to the wifeof the commanding officer, in case that official was so provided. Mrs.Frazier was seated in plain view of the queenly creature who, havingadvanced a few steps beyond the portals and the loiterers thereassembled, now halted, and like some finished actress swept the roomwith her radiant eyes, as though compelling all men, all women, to yieldto her their attention and regard, and then, smiling brightly, beamingly(dutiful Brayton guided by the pressure of her daintily gloved hand),moved with almost royal grace and deliberation to where Mrs. Frazier satin state; and the first lady of the garrison rose to greet her.

  Unsuitable as is the full uniform for cavalry purposes to-day, it wasworse in 1870, when our shoulders were decked with wabbly epaulets andour waists were draped with a silken sash that few men wore properly.But whatever might be said of Sir Galahad's shortcomings as a booncompanion, or of his severely simple and economical mode of life, therewas no manifestation of parsimony in his attire. No man in the room wasso well uniformed, or wore the garb of his profession with better grace.He who came in a flannel shirt and a rough gray suit, with a silverwatch and leather watch-chain, appeared this night in uniform offaultless cut and fit, with brand-new glittering captain's epaulets,while his sash was of the costliest silk net, of a brighter red thangenerally worn,--most officers appearing in a stringy affair that ageand weather had turned to dingy purple. On his left breast Barclay worethe badge in gold and enamel of a famous fighting division in a gallantcorps; and such badges were rare in the days whereof I write. Moreover,though neither a tall man nor a stalwart, Captain Barclay was erect,wiry, and well proportioned, and his head and face were well worth thesecond look every one had been giving this night. "The Twelfth have beenswearing like pirates at having another doughboy saddled on 'em,"chuckled Captain Perkins, himself a doughboy. "Begad, the Twelfth has nobetter picture of the officer and the gentleman than this importationfrom the Foot." But no one spoke with the thought of being heard asLaura Winn finished her greeting to Mrs. Frazier. Every man and womanwas intent only on what was coming next, although many strove to speak,or to appear to listen, to their neighbors. Charlotte Frazier actuallyrose from her seat and stepped out into the room that she might have abetter view.

  And Barclay would not have been the observant man he had already shownhimself to be had he not known it. His color was a bit high for onewhose face was ordinarily so pale, but he stood calmly erect, with anexpression of pleased contemplation in his fine eyes, waiting for Mrs.Winn to finish the somewhat hurried yet lavish words that she addressedto Mrs. Frazier; then she turned effusively upon him.

  "Captain Barclay!" she exclaimed. "How very good to see you here! andhow glad we all are to welcome you to the Twelfth! Mr. Winn and I havebeen in despair because his illness has kept him a prisoner. Indeed, Idoubt if I should have left him at all to-night but for his positiveorders--and the doctor's; then, of course, I much wanted to seeyou--too."

  She had begun confidently, even masterfully. She looked him withdetermined effort straight in the face at the start, but her confidenceflitted before a dozen words were said. Her voice faltered before shehad half finished, for Barclay's eyes frankly, even smilingly, met hers,and with ease and dignity and courteous interest all commingled he hadbowed slightly over her hand, lowered it after a brief, by no meanslingering, pressure, and stood, merely mentioning her name, "Mrs. Winn,"and, as was rather a way of his, letting the other party do all thetalking. It was a godsend to Laura Winn that the waltz music began atthe next instant, for his nonchalance was something utterly unexpected.Oh, how dared he look so calmly, indifferently, forgetfully, almostunrecognizingly, into her eyes, and stand there so placidly, when herheart was fluttering wildly with nervous excitement, her words coming ingasps!

  "Oh, Mr. Brayton, how heavenly!" she exclaimed. "Don't let us lose aninstant of that waltz." Over his glittering shoulder she beamed inparting a bewitching smile, levelled all at Barclay, and glided away, afloating cloud of filmy drapery, a vision of flashing eyes, of flushingcheeks, of dazzling white teeth gleaming between the parted rose-leavesof her mouth, of snowy shoulders and shapely arms, of peeping, pointed,satin-shod feet, the handsomest creature in all that crowded room, andthe most dismally unhappy. She had met him in the witnessing presence ofall Fort Worth, and all the garrison saw that she had sustained acrushing defeat. She who was to have been his wife and had duped him,she who
had looked to subjugate him once more, was duped in turn, thevictim of her own vanity.

  "And to think," said Mrs. De Lancy, "she only changed her half-mourninga month ago, and now--in full ball costume!"

  Fort Worth didn't stop talking of that episode for all of another week,and that, too, in the face of other interesting matter.

  To begin with, Sergeant Marsden had disappeared as though from the faceof the earth. Whither he had fled no man could say. No settlement worththe name had not been searched, no ranch remained unvisited. Fuller'speople would not shield the fugitive, for Fuller, as the post sutler,suffered equally with Uncle Sam from the sergeant's depredations.Settlers and ranch people who bought of the latter cut into the businessof the former, and Fuller would most gladly have had him "rounded up"long weeks ago; but Marsden and his few confederates in the garrison hadadmirably covered their tracks, and the indications of declining tradethat had roused the sutler's suspicions led to no arousal of vigilancewithin the sentry line: wherefore Fuller's heart was hardened againstthe post commander and the erstwhile commissary, and this, too, at atime when the latter stood in sorest need of financial help. The extentof poor Winn's losses and responsibility was now known: so far as hiscommissary accounts were concerned, not a cent less than three thousanddollars would cover them. The quartermaster was out a horse andequipments, and several confiding enlisted men and laundresses weredefrauded of money loaned the dashing sergeant. Uncle Sam, be it known,has summary methods as a bill-collector. He simply stops his servant'spay until the amount due is fully met. Winn's total pay and emolumentsas computed in '70 and '71 would barely serve in two years to squarehimself with his exacting Uncle. Meantime, what were wife and baby andother claimants to do? What was he to live on, and so insure payment ofwhich his death would destroy all possibility? Crushed as Winn was,there were men and women who roundly scored his wife for appearingsuperbly dressed at the first ball graced by the presence of herdiscarded lover. Yet had she stayed away, their disappointment wouldhave exceeded this disapprobation. Collabone said his patient sufferedfrom a low fever, which the unprofessional found difficult tounderstand, in view of Mrs. Winn's diagnosis, which declared italarmingly high. Certain it is that he kept his room until four daysafter the evening of the ball; then he had to turn out and face themusic, for orders came from "San Antone."

  Then, too, came another invoice of interesting matter to Fort Worth, andit must be remembered that, in the narrow and restricted life of the farfrontier, interest existed in matters that seem too trivial for mentionin the broader spheres of the metropolis. The invoice was an actual andmaterial fact, and consisted of a big wagon-load of household goodsconsigned to Captain Barclay, accompanied by a dignified Ethiopian andtwo very knowing-looking horses that had many of the points ofthoroughbreds. The quartermaster's train under proper escort had madethe long pull from Department Head-Quarters, and all unannounced camethese chattels to the new troop leader. The very next morning, which wasa Sunday, when Brooks's four troops formed line for inspection in theold-fashioned full dress of the cavalry, the men in shell jackets andplumed felt hats, the officers in long-skirted, clerical-lookingfrock-coats, black ostrich plumes, gold epaulets, and crimson sashes,there rode at the head of Lawrence's old troop a new captain, whosehorse and equipments became the centre of critical and admiring eyes themoment it was possible for his comrades to leave their commands andgather about him. Very few officers in those days possessed anythingbetter than the regulation troop bridle and raw-hide McClellan saddle,which with their folded blankets satisfied all the modest requirementsof the frontier. The light-batterymen indulged in a little more styleand had picturesque red blankets to help out, but even they were put inthe shade, and came trotting over during the rest after Brooks had madethe formal ride round to look at the general appearance of his command.All hands seemed to gather in approbation about Barclay's charger. Thehorse himself was a bright, blooded bay, with jet-black, waving mane,tail, and forelock, superb head, shoulders and haunches, and nimblelegs, all handsomely set off by a glistening bridle with double rein,martingale, glossy breast-strap and polished bits, curb-chain, bosses,rings, and heart, with the regimental number in silver on the bosses andat the corner of the handsome shabraque of dark blue cloth, patentleather, and the yellow edging and trimming of the cavalry. "The onlyoutfit of the kind at Worth," said Brooks, emphatically. "And yet,gentlemen," he continued, seeing latent criticism in the eyes of certainof the circle, "it's all strictly in accordance with regulations, andjust as we used to have it in the old days before the war. I wish we allhad the same now. I haven't seen a Grimsley outfit since '61."

  "Grimsley it is," said the veteran captain of the light battery. "Minewent to Richmond in '61 with what we didn't save of our battery at FirstBull Run."

  "Grimsley it is," said his junior subaltern. "If Sam Waring could onlysee that, he'd turn green with envy to-day and borrow it to-morrow."Whereat there went up a laugh, for Waring was a man of mark in the queerold days of the army.

  Then of course every one wanted to know, as the cavalcade rode from thedrill-ground up to the post, where Barclay had bought his horses, andsome inquired how much they cost; and to all queries of the kind Barclayanswered, with perfect good humor, that he had ordered the equipments ofthe old firm of Grimsley, still doing business in St. Louis, as it didin the days when Jefferson Barracks and Leavenworth and Riley werefamous cavalry stations in the '50s; the horses he had bought of afamily connection in Kentucky, and had given seven hundred dollars forthe pair.

  "See here, Hodge," growled the old stagers as they clustered about theclub-room, sipping cooling drinks after the warm morning exercise,"what's all this you've been telling us about Barclay's inexpensive,economical, and skimpy ways? He's got the outfit of a Britishfield-marshal, by gad!"

  But Hodge was too much concerned and confounded to speak. "It's more'n Ican explain," he said. "Why, he wouldn't spend ten cents in Wyoming."

  And yet, had Hodge only known it, Barclay's infantry outfit was of justas fine finish and material, as far as it went, as these much morecostly and elaborate appointments of the mounted service. Everythingconnected with the dress or equipments of his profession Barclay, whowould spend nothing for frivolities, ordered of the best furnishers, andno man ever appeared on duty in uniform more precise or equipments ofbetter make.

  Of course the club-room was not the only place where Barclay's reallybewildering appearance was discussed. Among the officers there were manywho growled and criticised. It was all right to have handsome horses, ifhe could afford it: any cavalryman would try to do that, was theverdict. "But all these other jimcracks, they're simply moonshine!" Andyet, as pointed out by Major Brooks, it was all strictly according toregulation. "Damn the regulations!" said Captain Follansbee; "they'retoo expensive for me." And, take it all in all, the feeling of the messwas rather against than with Barclay; he had no business wearing betterclothes or using better horse-furniture than did his fellows. Follansbeewent so far as to tackle Blythe on the subject and invoke his sympathy,but that massive old dragoon disappointed him. "Barclay's right," saidhe; "and if the rules were enforced we'd all have to get them."

  "But they cost so much," said Follansbee.

  "Not half what you spend in whiskey in half the time it would take toget them here," was the unfeeling rejoinder.

  Mrs. Frazier and Mrs. De Lancy, however, wished the captain had broughtan easy open carriage with driving horses instead of saddlers. It wouldhave been far more useful, said those level-headed women. And so itmight have been--to them.

  But in the midst of all the talk and discussion came tidings that amazedFort Worth. Ned Lawrence was actually on his way back to Texas,--wouldbe with his precious babies within the fortnight,--would reoccupy hisold quarters for a while at least as the guest of the usurper, for theyhad been formally chosen by Captain Barclay, to the frantic wrath of Adawhen first she heard the news,--wrath that sobbed itself out in the lapof her loving friend Mrs. Blythe, as the motherless girl listened
withastonished ears to the explanation.

  "So far from raging at him, Ada, you should be thankful that your dearfather and you and Jimmy have found so thoughtful and generous a friendas Captain Barclay. If he had not chosen your house, Captain Bronsonwould have done so, and you would have had to go. As it is, nothing ofyours or your father's will be disturbed."

  And sorely tempted was the enthusiastic, tender-hearted woman to tellmuch more that, but for his prohibition, she would have told; and yetshe did not begin to know all.