****
Lieutenant Grayson had tied his horse to the back of the wagon and insisted on driving. The air was crisp and the sun just rising as they moved down the road on the way to the mission. Faith had wondered if she had done the right thing in inviting him to accompany her, but as the morning wore on, she grew more relaxed.
“I enjoyed the evening at the Custers’ last night,” she remarked. “He’s been a celebrity for some time.”
Lieutenant Grayson nodded. “And wants to be an even bigger one,” he said.
“Really?”
“Oh yes. Most men are a little hesitant to draw attention to themselves, but Custer is so hungry for fame, he’ll do anything to get a headline.”
“That’s not good for a soldier, is it?”
“Doesn’t seem to matter much,” Grayson said. “Some humble men make rotten commanders, and some—like Custer—advance with one eye on their own press clippings.”
“Who was the officer with the snow-white hair?”
“That’s Captain Frederick Benteen.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “What made you notice him?”
“Well, I’d guess he’s no admirer of General Custer.”
“You guessed right.” Grayson shook his head emphatically. “Hates the ground Custer walks on!”
“Why?”
“Custer led the Seventh into a battle on the Washita about seven years ago. It was the dead of winter, and in the fight an officer named Elliot, with a few men, got separated from the main body. Custer knew it, but didn’t do a thing to help them. A few days later Elliot was found with his nineteen men, all dead. Benteen holds Custer responsible.”
“Was the general really so callous?”
“Can’t say,” Grayson shrugged. “He thought he was in a tight fix, and it’s hard to make decisions in a close fight.” He smiled at her, adding, “Not too long ago an officer wrote a letter to a St. Louis newspaper, blaming Custer for Elliot’s death. Custer called all his officers together and informed them he was going to pistolwhip the author of that letter. Benteen went and got his revolver, and when he came back, he said, ‘You can begin the whipping anytime, General. I wrote that letter!’ ”
“What did Custer do?”
“Just turned red and said, ‘I’ll see you later, Captain!’ It was a pretty close thing, for Benteen’s a tough fellow. And that’s why Custer’s assigned him to Fort Rice, to keep him out of his hair.”
The sun grew warm, and Faith removed her coat, her mind still on what Grayson had just related. “It sounds more like a bunch of jealous boys than professional soldiers,” she commented.
Grayson laughed with delight. “Exactly right!” he nodded. “But men will do anything to gain their ends—and the one goal of an officer is promotion.”
“Not all men are like that.”
He saw that he had gone too far. “No, not all. Captain Smith, he’s a fine officer. But he’ll never go higher because he’s too good a man to get into the political side of soldiering.”
They reached the mission and Faith proudly showed him around. The barn had been made into two smaller rooms, leaving one a little larger. The lumber was still fresh, giving off the smell of pine rosin. Faith liked it. As she moved around, making expressive gestures with her hands, Grayson watched her, admiring her graceful figure and bright eyes.
“Where are the students?” he asked.
“They only come in the afternoon,” Faith said. “That’s what they want, so I let them pick the time.”
“Gives you lots of free time,” he suggested. “Don’t you get lonesome?”
“I haven’t yet, Lieutenant.” She thought of this, and shook her head. “No, I won’t get lonesome. Sooner or later the school will grow. Until then I love the privacy.”
He asked her bluntly, “Why haven’t you married, Faith?”
Taken off guard, she flushed, but turned to face him. “I was engaged, but he called it off.”
“He walked out on you?” Grayson was astonished and exclaimed, “What a blind fool!”
“No, he’s not a fool, Lieutenant. And it wasn’t I he walked out on. It was—all this.” She motioned to the school and the horizon. “He couldn’t face being just a small unimportant missionary.”
She turned and they walked to the house. When he’d seen it all, they went outside, and he drew water from her well. As he was engaged in that, a rider appeared suddenly. He’d come from the south, on the other side of the barn, so they hadn’t seen him.
Faith felt a sense of shock as she saw it was Tom Winslow, and she turned to see that Lieutenant Grayson’s eyes were riveted on the approaching rider.
Winslow had recognized Grayson instantly, but did not slacken his pace. He was covered with dust, and his face showed several days’ growth of whiskers. His eyes and slumped shoulders showed extreme weariness.
“Hello, Sergeant,” Faith said as soon as he pulled to a stop. “Get down and water your horse.”
Winslow nodded and slid to the ground. He let the black he was riding drink for a while, then pulled him away.
“Let me get you a glass,” Faith offered.
“No, this is fine.” Winslow tied the horse to the rail, pumped with one hand, and drank the water as it flowed from the lip of the pump. He straightened up, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and for the first time, acknowledged the presence of Grayson by saluting. He waited until Grayson returned it, then moved back to his horse.
“Tom, you’re not going?” Faith asked.
He considered her, letting his eyes convey an unspoken thought, then glanced at the lieutenant; and as clearly as a man could make it, he let his displeasure be felt. “I’m in a hurry to get back to the fort,” he said coldly. “Thanks for the water.”
He swung into the saddle and without another word spurred the horse into a fast trot.
Anger and humiliation rose in Faith, for she knew in his mind he had judged her and found her wanting.
He has no right to think I’m wrong! she fumed, letting it show on her face so clearly that Grayson said, “He’s a surly, bitter man, Faith.”
She turned, and the bitterness in her grew. “He hates you, Spence. Why?”
“It’s all ancient history,” Grayson shrugged. “He’s cold and bitter. I wish he hadn’t come here.” He hesitated, then said, “He spoiled our afternoon.”
“That’s not your fault, Spence.”
Her words encouraged him and he asked eagerly, “May I come again?”
She hesitated, finally saying, “Yes—but you and I are not alike.”
He smiled at her, easing over the hard moment. “No, but there’s always a chance a man can change. You believe that, don’t you, Faith?”
She looked at the dust raised by Winslow’s horse, and then back toward Spence Grayson. Her eyes still bore the hurt from Winslow’s unjust perception, but she nodded and said softly, “Yes, Spence, anyone can change.”
He nodded, jumped on his horse, and shouted as he rode away, “I’ll see you again—very soon!”
She stood there watching the two dust trails while trying to deal with the humiliation Tom Winslow had given her.
Finally she softened her attitude. “He’s been hurt so badly, he doesn’t even know when he’s doing it to somebody else!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
An Apology
The winter of 1875 would be remembered as one of the worst Dakota ever suffered. It began mildly enough. The sultry days of summer lingered through August and most of September. But when October arrived, it hit with a vengeance, and the winter that had crouched silently entered swiftly—in one night—to touch the land, turning it black and bitter, shriveling every living thing exposed to it.
Laurie Winslow awoke to find the glass on her windows etched with frost, and when her father called from the kitchen: “Laurie—pile out!” she threw back the covers and dressed. She still wore boy’s clothing—trousers and shirt and boots—though the schoolmaster, Mr. Dutton, had suggested she wear dres
ses. That was one thing she didn’t want to do, so she persuaded her father to buy her a pony, which could not be ridden in skirts, of course!
He had agreed easily, taking pleasure in giving her the horse—a well-shaped bay mare with a gentle temperament. He had long ago taught her to ride, but this was the first horse she could call her own. Winslow had been aware that he could not ignore Mr. Dutton’s rules, but in this case, the teacher made an exception. Apart from this one regulation, Laurie would observe all the other requirements.
Laurie had spoken of Laurence Dutton as being “crabby,” but Winslow had discovered differently. The schoolmaster was serious enough, but a spark of humor often glinted in his gray eyes, and the two men got on well. At the age of twenty-six, Dutton was the younger of the two. Of average height, slender build, with coppery red hair and a round boyish face, his youthful looks frequently deceived people, for beneath the innocent exterior lurked a sharp mind.
Winslow discovered on their second meeting that Dutton was a schoolmaster only by default. Laurie had brought word to Winslow that Dutton wanted to see him, and he had gone the next day just as school let out. He was somewhat apprehensive, thinking that Laurie was in some sort of difficulty; but as soon as Dutton had sent the children out for the day, he said, “Let’s have some coffee.”
They had gone to a small cafe and talked over peach pie and strong black coffee. Tom broached the subject first. “Is there some problem with Laurie?” he asked.
“No, none at all,” Dutton said. “She’s a very bright girl.” Seeing the look of relief on Winslow’s face, he laughed. “Always a shock to get called in to talk to the teacher, isn’t it?”
Winslow grinned. “I guess I remember my own days in school too well. The teacher never called on my folks with good news.”
“Well, there is a problem, but it’s mine more than Laurie’s.” Dutton frowned, seeming to have difficulty knowing how to say what was on his heart. Then he shrugged. “You see, Mr. Winslow—”
“Just call me Tom.”
“All right—Tom. What I want to say is that I try to make people believe I know how to teach school, but I’m really a fraud.”
Intrigued by the schoolmaster’s confession, Tom attempted to put the man at ease. “I guess we all put on a front sometimes.”
“I suppose so. Well, I’m not really a schoolteacher, Tom. Or at least, not for longer than I have to be. I’m about half a lawyer. As soon as I get a little more cash, I’ll become the other half. Another year here and Travis Long will take me into his office to study with him.” Dutton smiled, adding, “He’s a pettifogging old fellow, but sharp as a needle.”
“I hear he’s the best trial lawyer in the state,” Winslow nodded. “He got those Catlin brothers off with a prison term.”
“Didn’t he, though?” Dutton sighed with admiration. “And they were caught red-handed and would have been hanged if it hadn’t been for Long.”
“A lawyer’s the last thing in the world I’d want to be,” Winslow said. “But I wish you luck if that’s the way your stick floats.”
“Well, it’s hard to make it without financial backing, but my mind’s made up.”
At that moment, Eileen Jennings entered the cafe, and Winslow called, “Eileen—come and join a lonesome pair.” When she came over, he said, “I suppose you two have met?” nodding to Dutton.
“Not really,” Eileen smiled. “I know you by reputation, Mr. Dutton. All the children from the fort come to tell me what a horrible ogre you are—especially Laurie.” She put out her hand, adding, “I’m Eileen Jennings.”
Dutton took her hand. “Sometimes I think they’re the ogres!”
Winslow waved the waitress over, and Eileen ordered tea. “Is Laurie in trouble?” she asked, and was surprised when both men laughed. When Winslow explained that he had mistakenly thought the same when he received the summons to meet with Laurie’s teacher, she said, “Well, that’s a relief.”
“Laurie’s fine,” Dutton said. “I was just about to tell Tom that I can’t do much for her in the one area she likes the best—which is literature. I can handle the other subjects, math and history—but literature’s always been my Achilles’ heel.”
“I’m not much along those lines myself,” Winslow admitted. “Maybe we can order some more books?”
Eileen sipped her tea as she listened to the two men discuss the problem; then when they seemed to have reached an impasse, she said, “Well, I could never get my arithmetic problems to come out right—and my teachers all agreed it was because I read too much poetry and fiction. If you would like, Mr. Dutton, I’d be willing to help Laurie.”
Dutton’s face lit up, “Why, that would be excellent, Mrs. Jennings!”
“Hate to put you out, Eileen,” Winslow said. He shook his head, adding, “I’ve just dumped Laurie on you as it is—maybe too much.”
“She’s a sweet girl, Tom. I enjoy having her with me.” Turning to Dutton she asked, “Would you want me to make a list of books I have? Perhaps with some sort of schedule and even some quizzes?”
“Could you do that? I’d be glad to stop by and pick them up.”
“Why don’t you come with me now?” Eileen got to her feet and both men rose. “Some are just romantic novels, but we can sort them out and use what’s workable.”
“That would be great,” Dutton replied quickly. Like most of the other single men in Bismarck, he was starved for feminine companionship, and he had been covertly studying Eileen, appreciating her attractiveness.
“Can you come for supper, Tom?”
“Thanks, Eileen, but I promised to take Laurie out for a little hunting trip. We may even camp out all night. Could you extend that offer for another time?”
“Of course.”
When they left the cafe, Winslow went to locate Laurie, while the other two walked toward Eileen’s wagon, where Dutton tied his horse to the back for his return trip, then joined her in the wagon. Their ride to the fort was pleasant, and she discovered that he was a witty man, but rather shy, despite his profession. She thoroughly enjoyed his stories of disasters in the classroom; and when they reached her house, they spent so much time going over the books that she said, “It’s too late to cook a big meal, but if you’d like to stay, Mr. Dutton, I’ll fix some bacon and eggs.”
“Sounds good to me, but please call me Larry,” he said. After the meal, he insisted on helping with the dishes. When he was ready to leave, he lingered at the door, wanting to say something, but his wit seemed to have failed. Finally he said, “It’s been a fine evening for me. Thanks for the meal.”
“It was fun, Larry,” she responded, then hesitated. “I . . .get lonely sometimes.”
“So do I,” Dutton replied, feeling awkward. “Well,” he said, “thanks again. I’ll get at the books right away.”
When he was gone, Eileen thought of the help she could be to Laurie, pleased to have some work to do. The evening had been enjoyable. The supper with the schoolmaster had been pleasant, and she found herself marveling at the ease she felt with the young man. She had not missed the admiration in his eyes, but she was accustomed to that. Unlike others, however, he had not pushed his advantage, and it had been good to discover that there were still men like him in the world.
****
When Winslow told Laurie what her teacher had said, she was relieved. “I’m so glad!” she exclaimed as the two of them rode out of Bismarck. “I was afraid it was because I had a fight with Tommy Clarenton.”
“You didn’t tell me about that.”
“Oh, he was teasing me, so I got mad.”
“What was he teasing you about?”
She seemed embarrassed by his question, but finally said, “He likes me, I guess.”
Winslow glanced at her, caught off guard by her statement. She was boyish looking enough in her trousers and shirt, but he could see she was changing. She was growing into a real beauty, and in a few years she would pass out of childhood into that mysterious zone between
child and woman. He hated to think of it, but was realistic enough to understand that it was inevitable. His mother had told him once as he had held Laurie in his arms, just a squirming red-faced baby: Tom, enjoy this time. It will be the easiest of all. The older children get, the more pain they can bring you. Right now you can do what you will with Laurie—but as she grows older, she’ll move away from you. You’ll want to stop her from making bad decisions, to shield her from the hurts she’s headed toward, but you won’t be able to.
Now he felt the power of his mother’s words, and it brought a sadness. To cover it, he asked, “Did you have a real fight?”
“Oh no. He pulled my hair and I slapped him.” She grinned, looking at that moment very much like her mother. “Mr. Dutton paddled us both—but not very hard.” Then like the very young, she jumped to the next subject. “Are you going to take me camping, Daddy?”
“Yes. Maybe we can shoot something to take to Miss Eileen.”
When they arrived at the fort, he was greeted by Captain Algernon Smith and immediately saluted.
Smith returned the salute, then smiled at the girl. “Hello, Laurie.”
“Hello,” Laurie said. “My daddy’s going to take me camping, Captain, so please don’t make him go with you.”
“Laurie!” Winslow shook his head at the child. “You can’t say that to Captain Smith!”
“Oh, I guess she can, Sergeant,” Smith grinned. “I’ve had worse said to me. This camping trip, it’s just for tonight?”
“Yes, sir.” Winslow realized it wasn’t a routine question. “Something up, Captain?”
“Might be. Some miners got jumped this morning. Captain Moylan took some men out to check on it. He sent word that three men were killed and that he’d try to follow the Indians who did it. I’d like to take a squad in a couple days and relieve him. We’ll leave at first light. Like to have you come along.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.” When the officer walked away, he and Laurie rode to the house. It was growing dark, and after they finished supper, Winslow listened as Laurie read from one of the books Faith had given her. He sat there, sipping coffee and enjoying the dramatic flair with which she read. Finally he tucked her in bed, saying, “Sleep tight. It’ll be a tough day tomorrow.”
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