The Crossed Sabres (20 page)

Faith did not remain alone. She was soon cornered by Benny Hodgson and a tall lieutenant named Edgerly, the latter as handsome a man as she had ever seen, with a delightful sunny disposition. Other officers pressed in for their share of attention, too. Overwhelmed by the attention, she was relieved when a superior officer walked over and shooed them off. “I’m Captain Algernon Smith. These men can be a little too much sometimes. How are you doing? My sergeant has told me about you.”

“Sergeant Winslow?”

“Yes.” Smith studied her thoughtfully, then remarked, “You’ve not known him long, I think he said.”

“We met on the trip from the East.” She liked the captain and felt comfortable with him. “Is he going to be successful in his new life?” she asked.

“Coming back into uniform? I don’t see why not. He’s one who’s born to be a soldier.”

They spoke of her work with the Indians but were soon interrupted by Grayson, who approached them with Mrs. Smith
in tow. His smooth handsome face was alive with humor as he said, “Now, Mrs. Smith, tell your husband to let his poor subordinates entertain the young lady!”

Mrs. Smith, an attractive blue-eyed blonde, nodded. “I always have to drag him away from the young women,” she said, taking his arm.

“Emily—” Captain Smith protested. “You know that’s not true!”

Mrs. Smith smiled at Faith, the smile of a woman secure in herself and in her husband, and said, “No, it’s not. But these young officers are all waiting to make fools of themselves, so we’ll give them a chance.”

As she pulled her husband away, Faith smiled at Grayson, amused at his tactics. “You’re very resourceful, Lieutenant.”

“Tell me about yourself,” he said. “Or shall I tell you about
myself?
” When she chose the latter, he immediately related several stories concerning his career. He made light of himself, revealing little vanity, though she was certain he had plenty of that quality.

They strolled around the room as they talked, and finally she spoke of her trip from St. Louis, and added, “I would have been in great difficulties if a gentleman hadn’t come to my aid. He had his daughter with him. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was on his way to Fort Lincoln to enlist in the Seventh. His name is Tom Winslow. Have you met him, Lieutenant?”

She didn’t miss the slight hesitation before he nodded. “Oh, he’s the new scout. He’s assigned to A Company, I believe.”

Faith did not pursue the subject any further, for she sensed Grayson’s reluctance in speaking about his past experience, just as Tom had. She soon discovered that Grayson was a polished man with women, probably as a result of much practice—and that he was not truthful at all times, for he had concealed the fact that he and Winslow were old acquaintances.

Faith was ready to leave the party early, but was detained
by Lieutenant Grayson. “I’d like to see your school, Miss Jamison. May I come for a visit?”

“I’m going back in the morning, Lieutenant. Come any time.”

Grayson’s interest in her was more than his usual desire for conquest. He had not felt this way for many years, and so asked impulsively, “May I ride out with you? I’m off duty tomorrow.”

Faith nodded. “I’ll be leaving with a wagonload of supplies about nine o’clock. If you’re at Owens’ Hardware Store, I’ll be glad to take you for a guided tour of my school.”

“I’ll be there!”

****

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 dresses. 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.”