The two visiting women, Meagan Parker and Clara Holbrook, because they were young, single, and very pretty, quickly became the hit of the dance as the single officers, and even some of the bolder enlisted men, lined up to put their names on their dance cards.
“I can see right now that I’ll nae be able to claim ye for many dances,” Duff said.
“Well, you aren’t in uniform, Duff. And you know how much women are attracted to uniforms,” Meagan teased.
“Aye, I dinnae think to bring my kilts. Sure ’n’ they would have made a big hit here,” Duff said with a laugh.
“Well, I think you look adorable in your kilts,” Meagan said.
“Adorable, is it now? Och, adorable is nae a term that I find agreeable.”
Smiling, Meagan put her hand on Duff’s arm. “Sure now, and dinnae ye be such a child about a bit of a compliment.” Again, she perfectly imitated Duff’s Scottish brogue.
“Miss Parker, I do hope there is yet room for my name on your dance card,” Lieutenant Pershing said as he approached her.
“Of course there is, Lieutenant,” Meagan replied.
Captain Kirby’s wife, Nancy, and Lieutenant Scott’s wife, Sue, were also present at the dance, even though their husbands were in the field. Once the dance started, they were on the dance floor doing their part to alleviate the shortage of women.
At one point during the evening, Pershing took his leave of the sutler’s store. He had danced with Holbrook’s sister more than he had danced with any other woman present. Clara had a way about her, a smile, a lingering touch, a provocative scent that managed to penetrate his carefully constructed reserve. He was afraid that if he was around her too much, he would wind up doing something that would rupture the camaraderie he had established with Jason Holbrook, and that he definitely didn’t want to do. For one thing, the two men had become good friends, and for another, a ruptured relationship would interfere with the work that the two men were doing.
Pershing walked out onto the quadrangle, then sat down by the signal cannon and leaned back against the wheel. The music of the regimental band floated across the quadrangle, and he sat there in the dark, listening.
The band played “Lorena.” He knew that “Lorena” had been one of the favorite ballads of the soldiers on both sides of the Civil War and, as he heard it, he couldn’t help but think about the many young men who had listened to the song during the war that were no longer alive, not only those who were killed in the war, but those who had died since. He knew that he would never be able to hear this tune again without thinking of them. He was only five years old when the war ended, but he had known a lot of Civil War veterans, and because he was born and raised in Missouri, he knew veterans from both sides of the conflict.
He looked around the post and saw the hospital, Old Bedlam, and the BOQ all gleaming white in the moonlight. All of the officers’ quarters were well lit by kerosene lamps, and the windows were shining brightly, projecting squares of glimmering gold onto the ground outside. On the far side of the quadrangle the light was considerably dimmer from the enlisted men’s barracks and from the married NCO’s quarters as most of them burned the cheaper candles for light, rather than the lanterns that required fuel.
Finally, Pershing got up and returned to the dance.
“Where have you been?” Meagan asked, when he returned. “Your name is on my dance card, and I was about to think you might stand me up.”
“Ha!” Pershing said. “Disabuse yourself of that thought, Miss Parker. As you can see, I am here, bright eyed, and ready to claim my turn.” He glanced toward Duff. “Of course, with your permission, Mr. MacCallister.”
Duff laughed. “Leftenant, ye dinnae know the young lady all that well, do ye? ’Tis nae my place to grant or deny permission about anything she does. She is a woman with a strong will. To that, I can attest.”
The music started and, with a broad smile, Meagan offered her arm. Pershing took it and led her out onto the dance floor.
At the gate, the gate guard was moving around, dancing to the music, when he heard horses approaching.
“Corporal of the guard! Riders approaching the gate!” he called.
The call was repeated across the quadrangle so that the corporal of the guard reached the gate just as Captain Kirby and A Troop came riding up.
“Welcome back, Captain!” the corporal of the guard said, as he and the gate guard saluted.
Both Captain Kirby and Lieutenant Scott returned the salute.
“Thank you, Corporal McMurtry,” Captain Kirby said. He pulled to one side as the troops came riding in, and as he sat there, he could hear music from the sutler’s store.
“Is there a dance tonight, Corporal?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” McMurtry said. “And I’d be there if I didn’t have duty tonight.”
When the last of his soldiers came through the gate, Kirby wished Corporal McMurtry a goodnight, then urged his horse to catch up. He called the troop to a halt in the middle of the parade ground.
“I know some of you might want to go to the dance, but you make certain your mounts are rubbed down before you go,” he ordered. “First Sergeant, post.”
First Sergeant Cobb rode to the middle of the formation and Lieutenant Scott, who had been behind, rode away quickly to leave the formation as command was about to be turned over to a sergeant, and a sergeant could not command a formation that included an officer.
“First Sergeant, dismiss the troop.”
Cobb saluted, and then turned toward the mounted troop.
“Troop, dismount!”
The soldiers dismounted as one.
“Fall out!” he called.
“Horse, you’re goin’ to qet a quick rubdown, ’cause I’m goin’ to that dance!” one of the soldiers shouted.
“Hell, Gilbert, why don’t you take your horse to the dance? You ain’t goin’ to get no woman to dance with you,” one of the other soldiers said, and there was a general laughter as the soldiers led their horses to the stable.
The dance had been going for about an hour when several new men came in. These were the soldiers who had gone out with Captain Kirby and Lieutenant Scott. Kirby came over to report to Colonel Gibbon.
“Captain, it is good to see you back,” Colonel Gibbon said. “Did you encounter any Indians?”
“No, sir, Colonel, not a one,” Kirby said. “If you want to know what I think, I think it might have just been a bunch of young bucks that got themselves drunk on contraband whiskey, then left the reservation to go wild for a while. Like as not, they’re back on the reservation, and except for Yellow Hawk, we won’t be seein’ ’em again.”
“You may be right, Captain. But still, we can’t just let them go unpunished.”
“No, sir, I don’t reckon we can,” Captain Kirby said. He smiled. “By the way, did I see some spitted beef when we came back?”
“You did indeed,” Colonel Gibbon said. “Sergeant Beck is in charge, and I’m told it will be ready to serve by noon tomorrow.”
“All right, after a week of field rations, that is something I look forward to with great pleasure. And, as soon as I wash off some of this dirt, I intend to come back and have at least one dance with my wife, if I can pull her away.”
“It’s good to have you back, Bill,” Colonel Gibbon said.
Out on the dance floor, Sue was dancing with a young private when Lieutenant Scott stepped in.
“You won’t mind, will you, Private, if I claim my wife?” Scott asked in a tone of voice that was both sarcastic and callous.
“No, sir! No, sir! I’m sorry, sir!” the private said, jumping back quickly, and in fear.
Scott took Sue by the arm and led her off the floor.
“Clay, what are you doing? You are embarrassing me,” Sue complained, though she said the words quietly.
“I come back from a weeklong campaign against the Indians, and I find you, not at home welcoming the soldier home from the wars, but on a dance floor, cavorting
with the enlisted men. And you say that I am embarrassing you?”
“I’m sorry. You know how few women there are on the post. Mrs. Gibbon herself asked us to be generous with our dances. Why even she dances with everyone, officer and enlisted alike.”
“When I make colonel, you can do the same thing. For now I’m tired. I want to take a bath, and I want to go to bed. I have had a very hard week.”
Chapter Nineteen
“What happened to Mrs. Scott?” Pershing asked Holbrook. “I believe my name is on her dance card.”
“You didn’t see?” Holbrook asked.
“See what?”
“Clay stormed out on the floor like the cretin he is, grabbed Sue by the shoulder, and pulled her away.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t see it.”
“John, I know that Scott was your classmate, and believe me, I know the camaraderie that exists between members of the same class at the Point. Hell, I remember him as well, and I had no particular grievance with him then.”
Pershing chuckled. “You were two classes ahead of us, Jason. Nobody in my class would have dared give you cause for grievance.”
Holbrook chuckled as well. “Yes, but be that as it may, he has certainly done nothing since his arrival out here to earn anyone’s respect, or admiration. The best I can say about him is that he is tolerated.”
“Why is that, do you suppose?”
“Oh, I don’t have to suppose, I’m sure I know why it is. Clay Scott thought that by marrying General Winfield’s daughter, he would receive only the most desirable assignments, and be promoted quickly, but it hasn’t happened. What in the world a beautiful, refined young woman like Sue Winfield saw in Scott, I’ll never know.” Holbrook laughed, but it was a derisive laugh. “I’ve no doubt but that he is surprised that he isn’t a captain yet.”
“I must say that in the time I’ve been here, he has exhibited a degree of entitlement,” Pershing said. “But I thought that was just me.”
“I overheard Captain Kirby say that they encountered no Indians during this patrol, so Scott wasn’t tested. I would give anything to know how he behaved on the scout where Jones, Travis, and Calhoun were killed. Sergeant Caviness was with him, but he won’t say anything.”
“Caviness is loyal to Scott, is he? That speaks well for Scott, don’t you think?”
“No, it doesn’t speak well for Scott. It speaks well for Sergeant Caviness,” Holbrook said.
At that moment the band played a fanfare. Then Sergeant Major Martell stepped out in front of the raised platform.
“Ladies, officers, and men,” the sergeant major said. “Our troops have returned from their scout without one casualty. Let us give them a cheer. Hip, hip!”
“Hooray!”
“Hip, hip!”
“Hooray!”
“Hip, hip!”
“Hooray!”
“And now, as is our custom here, we will conclude this dance with the grand march, led by Colonel Gibbon and Mrs. Martell, and brought up by me, and Mrs. Gibbon.”
The soldiers hurried to claim their place in the grand march, and then, with the downbeat of the band leader’s baton, the march began. At the end of the grand march, the band concluded the evening by playing “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” After that song, officers and their ladies, NCO’s and their wives, single officers and single ladies, left the sutler’s store to return to their quarters.
Meagan was a guest of Colonel and Mrs. Gibbon, and her room was on the top floor, left-hand side of Old Bedlam, with a door that led from her room out onto the balcony. After Meagan dressed in her white nightgown, she opened a window to catch the night breeze, and because it felt so good she decided to walk out onto the porch for a few moments. From this elevated position, she had a very good view of the entire post and she saw the glow of the burning coals, over which the beef was being cooked. Beyond that she saw the dependent housing, the quarters for the married soldiers, both noncommissioned and commissioned officers. Looking in the other direction, she saw the BOQ, then the barracks, and beyond the barracks, the stables.
Directly in front of her she saw a wide-open expanse of grass, in the middle of which was a flagpole which was devoid of its banner, and a single cannon. The barrel of the cannon gleamed softly in the moonlight.
Over in his room in the BOQ, Duff extinguished the lantern, then looked out the window. He saw something white and gleaming on the upper terrace of Old Bedlam, and realized at once that it was Meagan. In the moonlight, there was almost an angelic aura around her. Meagan had proved herself during this drive, holding up her end of the work like any of the other drovers, not complaining when the hours were long, and the days hot. And when exposed to danger, she didn’t flinch.
Duff watched as she just stood there on the porch, looking out over the post, and enjoying the night air. He wished there was some way he could be standing there, right beside her now, without causing talk. Duff had given no real consideration to marriage since Skye had been killed, and he didn’t really think it was the time to think about it now. But if he did think about it, Meagan would be the first person he would consider.
As he was watching her, Meagan turned to look toward the BOQ, and Duff got the distinct feeling that she was looking right at him, that she knew he was here, looking at her.
He held her gaze for a long moment, even though he knew that she couldn’t actually see him. Then she turned and went back inside.
Over in the married officers’ quarters, in the house occupied by Lieutenant Scott and his wife, Sue, the evening wasn’t as peaceful. As soon as they stepped inside the door, Scott slapped her.
“No! Please, no!” Sue shouted, holding her arm up and cringing in fear.
“Shut up!” Scott said. He slapped her again. “You make one more sound and I’ll really give you something to scream about! You want everyone on the post to know about our private affairs?”
Sue began crying quietly. “Why are you doing this, Clay?”
“Why am I doing it? Well, let me ask you. How do you think it makes me feel to return home, and find you with another man?” Scott asked bitterly.
“With another man? Clay, what are you talking about?” Sue replied, shocked by the accusation.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you on the dance floor with an enlisted man. An enlisted man, mind you. Do you have any idea what an insult that is to our marriage?”
“Clay, I must have danced with a dozen or more people tonight! I don’t even know that young private’s name, for heaven’s sake!”
“And because you are a slut with a dozen or more men, instead of one private, that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s not like that, Clay. I told you, even Mrs. Gibbon was dancing with the soldiers.”
“Yes, but Colonel Gibbon was there!” Scott said. “I wasn’t!”
“I don’t see what difference that should make.”
“If you don’t see the difference, then you are even more of a slut than I thought,” Scott said. “Fix me something for supper.”
“Supper? Now? It’s after eleven o’clock.”
“I don’t care if it’s three o’clock in the morning,” Scott said with a growl. “You are my wife. When I ask you to fix my supper, you damn well better do it.”
“Are bacon and eggs all right?” Sue asked in a trembling voice.
“I guess they will have to be,” Scott said. He sat down and pulled off his boots, then stretched his feet out. Then he watched as Sue, still sniveling, started a couple of pieces of bacon to frying.
“Oh, quit your crying, I’m not going to hit you anymore,” Scott said.
“You had no right to hit me in the first place.”
“Sure I did. I’m your husband. I have every right to hit you, whether you give me a reason or not.”
For the next few minutes neither of them spoke. Then Scott got up and walked into the kitchen behind Sue, who was cooking. She flinched.
&nbs
p; “I told you, I’m not going to hit you again.” He reached out to put his arms around her. “I’m sorry I hit you. I’m just frustrated. It’s your father’s fault, Sue. He needs to get me away from this post. He needs to bring me back to Washington to be on his staff. Wouldn’t you like to be back with your friends and family again?”
“Yes.”
“Well, all you have to do is ask him to bring me back. I know he will listen to you, Sue. I tell you what, don’t even mention me. Just tell him that you want to come back. That’s probably all it will take. Will you write the letter?”
“I’ll write the letter.”
“That’s a good girl,” Scott said. He kissed her on the forehead, totally oblivious that she was still shaking in fear.
By the time “Reveille” was sounded the next morning, the entire post was permeated by the aroma of meat that had been cooking all night long. When the men were dismissed after reveille formation, many of them went over to examine the cause of the wonderful smell. There, they saw two soldiers slowly turning the spits, each of which held half a steer, the beef halves dripping juice onto glowing coals, while Sergeant Beck was busy brushing some sort of sauce onto the brown, glistening meat.
“Hey, Sarge, how about a bite?” one of soldiers said, reaching out to pull off a piece of the meat.
“You pull off any of that meat and I’ll cut off your hand,” Sergeant Beck said, and though the soldier knew he was joking, there was enough seriousness in the remark to cause him to jerk his hand back.
“I just wanted a taste.”
“You’ll get a taste,” Sergeant Beck said. “You’ll get all you want at dinnertime.”
Because this was to be a post celebration, the meal wasn’t going to be served in the mess hall, but out on the parade ground where, for the enlisted men, long tables had been set up and set with plates, spoons, knives, and forks from the mess hall.
MacCallister, the Eagles Legacy: Dry Gulch Ambush Page 15