The Crossed Sabres

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Just put it like it is,” Faith insisted.

  Winslow did, and immediately an old man lined by years and trouble spoke up. “Why would any man want to be born into the world twice? Once is trouble enough!”

  A giggle swept over the small congregation, and when Winslow translated the old man’s response to Faith, she said, “Yes, it is a hard world, and Jesus knew that. But there are two worlds, as you well know, Father,” she said to the man. “One is dirt and water and sun and food. We all enter this world. But not all things are beneath a person’s feet. Some things can be found only in his heart.” She was encouraged when she saw heads nodding, and began to preach, stressing those two aspects of man: the physical and the spiritual.

  Winslow did his best, struggling at times over the concepts, but anxious to get the clearest meaning across.

  But he discovered that the task of giving the Gospel to the Sioux was not so difficult as another factor. The story of Jesus as Faith told it stirred old memories, flashing back to his earliest childhood. He remembered the first time he heard about Jesus with any sort of clarity—the first time he’d thought of that moment for years. He’d been about six or seven at the time, and when a visiting preacher had described the sufferings of Jesus on the cross, Tom had pulled at his mother’s sleeve, asking when she bent down, “Why did they hurt Him, Mama?”

  Even as Winslow was speaking, giving Faith’s words to the Sioux, the memory welled up in him—of the tears that had stood in her eyes, the smell of lavender, the pressure of her arm hugging him, and the answer she gave: “He came to be hurt, Tom. He gave himself to be hurt—so that we wouldn’t have to be hurt.”

  Winslow had understood almost nothing of his mother’s words, but over the years the truth had kept coming back to him, and now the impact was so powerful, he suddenly faltered, his voice breaking.

  Faith glanced at him quickly, noticing the hesitation in Winslow’s delivery as she mentioned the cross and the death of Jesus.

  Finally she concluded. “All of us have been born into the world of stones and trees and the earth. But Jesus says that is not enough. He came to help us enter that other world—the world of God himself. And He did it by the only way possible.” She paused. There was a stillness in the room. Everyone’s eyes were focused on her. Then she went on. “God had said that sin must be paid for. Jesus said, “I will pay it for them. I will become a man and go to the earth. There I will die—and then they can come to the Great Spirit freely.

  “And how can a man or a woman or a child enter this other world—be born again?” Faith asked. “Jesus tells us how in this book that gives the words of the Great Spirit. It says, ‘Jesus said, if any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.’ ” Then she closed her Bible and looked out at them, her eyes glowing. “Jesus is the water of life. If you have no earthly water, your body dries up. You all know that. But we are thirsty for another kind of water. We long for God, for the Great Spirit. So Jesus says that He is that water!”

  She stopped then and offered a simple prayer. As she prayed, Tom Winslow found himself greatly moved. He had grown up among Christians, but the war had hardened him. Now he felt some of the same urgency about God that he had as a very young man. Faith had made no appeal as he had heard countless evangelists do—yet now he felt as if God was speaking directly to him.

  When she opened her eyes, Faith saw the struggle in his face. She wanted to go to him, but felt the Lord’s restraint, so she prayed that this—the first vulnerable trait she’d seen in Winslow—would be an open door to God.

  But even as she watched, she saw him pull himself straight, his lips drawing into a thin line. He had hardened himself. Why, she didn’t know, but the evidence was clear.

  Faith was right. Tom’s realization of his need for God had been invaded by thoughts of Spence Grayson, and all at once his bitterness flooded back, drowning out the gentle urging of the Spirit.

  Later as Tom and Laurie were leaving, Faith sensed his openness was gone, but she said only, “It was so good to see you. Will you come again, both of you?”

  “Oh, I will!” Laurie cried.

  “I can’t promise, Faith,” Tom said. Then seeing that he had hurt her, he added, “You’re a fine preacher.”

  As they rode away, Faith’s heart ached. He came so close!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Officers’ Ball

  The Officers’ Ball for the Seventh Cavalry was held in the only structure suitable for such an event—the upper story of the Citizens’ Bank, which was utilized for political meetings, lectures, and church meetings by groups having no buildings of their own.

  Spence Grayson tucked his hand under Faith’s arm and guided her up the wooden staircase attached to the outside frame, smiling wryly. Never thought I’d be taking a lady preacher to a dance, he thought. He had tried to convince himself that the scarcity of women had brought him to such a strange choice, but despite his flaws, he was always honest with himself.

  When he had asked Faith to the ball, she had stared at him, surprise leaping into her eyes. “Why, Spence, you don’t want to take me to an affair like that! You might as well ask your elderly aunt to go!”

  He had liked her forthright manner, answering it honestly in a manner he would not have used with any other woman. “I don’t think it’s quite that bad, Faith, but you know me pretty well, I think, where women are concerned.”

  “They’re a challenge to your ability, Spence.”

  Her directness surprised him. “Yes, I suppose so. They’ve used their wiles on men, and I’ve answered in kind.”

  “So now having tried your luck with all the available women, you’d like to see how well I can withstand your charm?” She had laughed outright at his embarrassment, but surprised him by saying, “I’ll go with you, Spence. I think a woman needs to be tested by a good-looking rascal once in a while.”

  “Might get you in trouble with your deacons.”

  “They’re not paying me, so I guess they can’t fire me!”

  Now as they walked up the steps, Faith’s foot slipped on a board, slippery with ice. As she faltered, Spence put his arm around her and steadied her. Holding her he said, “Feeling properly tempted, Miss Jamison?”

  “It’s better than falling down the stairs, Lieutenant,” she teased, aware of his powerful charm. He had the clearest blue eyes she’d ever seen in a man, and his intensely masculine features would attract any woman. She had accepted the invitation out of curiosity, prompted to a large degree by Tom’s animosity toward Grayson and, she had to admit, out of a perverse determination to throw herself into the officer’s company—to prove that she was immune to his charms. But as she entered the ballroom, she was uncomfortably aware that despite her frivolous teasing of Spence, she did sense an attraction to him that went beyond what she felt for most men.

  She enjoyed the startled expression that swept across his face as he looked at her after slipping the coat from her shoulders. The dress was stunning. Elaine Owens had practically forced her to wear it, despite Faith’s protests. It was a form-fitting gown of pale blue watered silk looped with blue ribbon and tiny blue flowers. Mischief danced in her eyes as she said to Grayson, “Just an old dress I salvaged, Spence.”

  His eyes glowed with admiration. “I’ve not seen anyone like you, Faith!”

  His voice was quiet but resonant, and she understood at that moment how he could win a woman. A scoundrel he might be, but there was such intensity in his gaze that she knew she would be in danger if she didn’t stay on her guard.

  “They’ve done a marvelous job with the room, haven’t they?” She swept the ballroom with an approving glance. The walls were decked with colorful bunting; the ceilings with long graceful festoons of brightly colored paper, catching and reflecting the myriad rays from the lamps. At the end of the room a band, composed of a piano, two guitars, a mandolin, and a violin, started to play. Immediately couples began to swirl around the room. The brass buttons on the officers’ coats winked
merrily, mingling and shifting like a kaleidoscope with the colors of the women’s gowns—red, yellow, green, blue, white.

  Grayson handed their coats to a corporal, turned to Faith, and put out his arms. “Come now, before those green young lieutenants carry you away!”

  Faith smiled and the two swung into the waltz rhythm, sweeping across the floor. He was, as she had guessed, a fine dancer. “When I became a Christian, I cried because I thought the Lord would make me give up dancing.”

  “I’m glad to see that wasn’t one of God’s conditions!”

  “Well, it was—for quite some time. But later I came to understand that it wasn’t the dancing that God was displeased with; it was my unwillingness to give it up.”

  “That could be said of any pleasure, do you think?”

  She laughed, tossing her head back, the bright amber beams of the chandeliers catching the golden highlights of her auburn hair. “Now, Lieutenant, that won’t do!”

  “I didn’t think it would,” he answered, pleased at her response. “But a fellow has to try, doesn’t he?”

  They danced for the next half hour until she was whisked away by other eager officers.

  When his fellow officers razzed Grayson about bringing a preacher to a ball, he replied, “You’re sore because I thought of it first!”

  He poured himself a drink at the punch table, thinking how delightful Faith Jamison was. He had been totally surprised to encounter a girl as filled with joy as any he’d ever met, not the grim and sour woman he had expected.

  The truth was that Spence Grayson was jaded with success. He had never met a woman who had been able to resist his charms—though in all honesty he admitted that he had turned from several, sensing pursuit was useless. Perhaps he was getting older—or wiser. For years he had played a game with women, but now he saw himself as a person with no substance—empty.

  He watched Faith moving across the floor and knew that she was not the type to be interested in what he had offered other women. Suddenly he realized he had no desire to pursue this young woman as he had others. She struck a chord in his spirit he had thought long dead—and now he wondered what it would be like to have such a woman love him.

  His reverie was interrupted by Lucy Darrow, the wife of Major Darrow now stationed at Fort Rice. “Why, Lucy,” he said, hiding his impatience. A woman of thirty-five with traces of youthful beauty, she had been one of his conquests—so easy that he had lost interest in her after a brief romance. It had been an old story—an aging husband, a wife searching for romance, and a handsome young officer. She had fallen easily, and now seemed intent on picking up their affair.

  He made light conversation, but her eyes grew bitter. “You don’t like to be confronted with the foolish women you’ve tired of, do you, Spence?” Her words dripped with acid.

  Grayson glanced around the room, noting that several people were watching them, including Lucy’s husband. He forced a smile and said quietly, “Now, Lucy, this is no place for such talk.”

  With a curl of her lips she spat out, “You’ve found a new interest, very pretty. Shall I wish you good hunting?” Then she too became aware of those watching and forced herself to smile. “Goodbye, Lieutenant. I won’t interfere with your fun!”

  She crossed the room to her husband, a pleasant-looking man in his early fifties. Major Darrow turned and said, “Will you dance with me, Lucy? You’re the finest-looking woman in the room.”

  “Why, Dan!” she said, surprise lighting her face. “You haven’t said anything like that to me for so long!”

  “Too long,” he nodded. “But it’s true. It’s always been true for me.” He took her in his arms and they moved out on the floor, unaware that Grayson had been watching them anxiously.

  He thought of several confrontations he’d had—two involving bloodshed—with the husbands of women he’d pursued. The memories nagged at him. With disgust, he felt a sense of shame at the charade of his life. I’m not a callow boy to be chasing after women, he thought with a flash of bitterness. A man’s a fool to keep that up forever!

  He shrugged off the heaviness he felt and brought Faith to the table and poured her a glass of punch. She accepted it and said, “All the officers seem in good spirits. I suppose it’s like a family, the Seventh?”

  “Hardly!” Grayson returned quickly. “The Custers have no children, but they have pets.”

  “Pets?”

  “Yes, pets—all the way from a mouse to a wolf. The general has about forty dogs, but not all his pets have four legs.” A cold smile touched his fleshy lips. “There is an inner circle in the Seventh—the chosen ones of the regiment. Benteen calls it ‘The Royal Family.’ ”

  Faith glanced toward General Custer, surrounded by a small group of officers, all hanging on to his words. “I’m surprised,” she murmured. “Which ones are in the circle?”

  “Tom Custer, the general’s brother. He’s a hard-drinking man and a woman chaser, if rumor is to be believed. He’s the only man alive to hold two congressional Medals of Honor, and Custer is livid with jealousy over it! There’s Lieutenant James Calhoun, he got into the circle by marrying Custer’s sister Margaret. And see that officer over there, with the yellow hair? That’s Captain George Yates. He’s on the inside, and so is the adjutant, William Cooke.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Well, there’s Captain Thomas Weir. There—the officer with the youthful face dancing with Mrs. Custer. And that’s an item, too—Weir and Mrs. Custer.” He shrugged at her puzzled look, adding, “There have been many rumors about them—but Benteen is the chief spreader of such.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Faith said. “She has such a sweet face!”

  “Well, I think you’re right. Benteen is the leader of the anti-Custer group. Come, let’s see what the general has to say.”

  Custer was wearing the uniform he designed himself, a fancy coat with a sailor suit collar with a general’s stars in each corner and a loose red silk neckerchief tied around his throat. He was speaking heatedly as the two approached, saying, “ . . .has finally decided to settle this confounded Indian question, and we shall do it this spring!”

  “The regiment is far below full strength, General,” Captain Moylan said. “I don’t think we can take the field with more than eight hundred men. That’s not enough.”

  Custer bridled at the officer and snapped angrily, “The Seventh can whip any collection of Indians on the plains, Captain!”

  Major Reno spoke up. “This won’t be an easy campaign. According to the scouts there are a formidable number of Indians gathering even now.”

  Custer gave him a scathing look. His lack of respect for the man was evident in his tone. “That’s scare talk, Major!” He swept the room with a wide gesture, stating emphatically, “Our only problem will be catching up with the hostiles!”

  Benteen, his eyes cold as polar ice, had stayed on the edge of the crowd. Now he said, “Did you know that traders have been freighting repeating rifles up the Missouri to trade for fur? The Indians we meet will be armed with Winchesters and Henrys—repeaters, some of them.”

  Custer said in a grating tone as he stared at Benteen, “Sir, we shall defeat them!”

  Grayson touched Faith’s arm and drew her away. “That’s the way it goes, you see? Custer will pay no attention to counsel. All he knows how to do is get on a horse, pull his sabre, and go charging into the biggest crowd of Indians he can find.”

  Faith studied him. “That’s hard on the rest of you, isn’t it?”

  “I know, but the War Department thinks Custer is the best Indian fighter we’ve got.”

  At the end of the evening Grayson and Faith said good-night to the general, who said to Grayson, “I’m happy you’re keeping such good company, Lieutenant. I know you do it as an example for the other young officers.”

  Mrs. Custer gave Faith a warm hug, genuinely happy to have her there. “Thank you for coming, Miss Jamison. We must see more of you in the future.”

&nb
sp; When Grayson and Faith were settled in the buggy, Grayson asked, “Do you have to be in right away?”

  “Not really. I told the Owens I’d be late.”

  “A ride by the river sound all right?”

  “A short one, Lieutenant.”

  The air was sharp and clear, the moon full and bright. As they pulled up beside the river, they sat watching the black waters rolling in, the little waves making ringlets as the ripples touched the shore.

  “My, it’s quiet!” Grayson exclaimed. “I never realize it until I come here like this because I live in such a noisy world.”

  “Do you come often, Spence?”

  “Sometimes. At night, most of the time. Just to think.” He turned to her. “You probably don’t believe I’m that kind of a fellow.”

  She studied him by the light of the moon, and her attention made him a little nervous. Finally she said, “Why, I suppose most of us do things like that. Why should you be different?”

  “That’s not what you think, Faith,” he responded quickly. “You’ve pegged me as a rogue and a rascal.” He thought of Tom Winslow and demanded, “Has someone told you about me?”

  She perceived his thought. “You mean Sergeant Winslow?”

  “Yes!”

  “He won’t say anything—though I tried to get it out of him.” She grew very serious. “What’s between you two, Spence? Why do you despise each other?”

  Grayson’s back was stiff, his eyes hard. After a moment he sighed. “Faith, it all happened a long time ago. We . . .cared for the same woman. An old story, I guess.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “Good friends once.” He fixed his eyes on the river, the slight gurgling of its waters a sibilant sound. “See the water?” he said quietly. “It’s there only for a moment, then it’s gone. It never comes back—that’s the way life is. There’s never any going back. Once a thing is done, it’s written in a book, and nothing a man or a woman can do will change it.”

  She was moved by his words. “Are there things you’d like to change, Spence?”