,- rf ' 
 
 .Xr 1 ^ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 " She seemed to be the obiect of general interest 1
 
 AN ARMY WIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 Captain CHARLES KING U. S. Army, 
 
 Aut her (ff "Fort Frayne," '' Trumpeter Fred," " Noble Blood and a 
 West Point Parallel:' 
 
 FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 3jfj C3 PUBLISHER G3Q; 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 Publisher, 
 
 114 Fifth Avenue, New York. 
 
 1896.
 
 . , . OTHER WORKS BY . . . 
 
 GAPT. CHARLES KING 
 
 TRUMPETER FRED. With full-page illustrations. 
 In Neely's Prismatic Library. 75 cents. 
 
 "TRUMPETER FRED" is a charming story and 
 tastefully gotten up. I know of nothing in the book 
 line that equals Neely's Prismatic Library for elegance 
 and careful selection ; it sets a pace that others will not 
 easily equal and none will pass. E. A. ROBINSON. 
 
 FORT FRAYNE. Captain CHARLES KING. Seventh 
 Edition. Cloth, $1.25 
 
 NOBLE BLOOD AND A WEST POINT PAR 
 ALLEL. (In press.) 
 
 For sale everywhere, or sent, postpaid, on 
 receipt of price, by the publisher, 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY, 
 
 114 Fifth Avenue, New York. 
 
 Copyright, 1895. 
 Copyright, 1896, by F. Tennyson Neely.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 "SHE SEEMED TO BE THE OBJECT OF GENERAL 
 
 INTEREST," .... Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 " AND WHY NOT, PRAY ?" . . . . . 9 
 
 "'So?' SAYS PARRY," . . . . . 17 
 
 " THEN TURNED AWAY," . . . 29 
 
 McLANE, . . . . . 37 
 
 "CLEARING THEM LIKE A BIRD," . . . . 47 
 
 " IT LAY UNOPENED IN HER LAP," . . 55 
 
 " TOOK THE HINT AND SLOUCHED AWAY," . . 61 
 
 " BATHED His TEMPLES FROM THEIR CANTEENS," . 69 
 
 SHE LAID HER HAND ON His ARM, . 77 
 
 " His HAND SOUGHT OUT AND FOUND HERS," . . 85 
 
 "AND HER HOURS WERE MAINLY SPENT ON DECK,". 93 
 
 BILLY WHITTAKER, ...... 101 
 
 THE RIVALS. MRS. MERRIAM : " OH ! How GLAD I 
 
 AM TO SEE You," . . . . 115 
 
 "STARING INTO VACANCY As SHE DID So," . . 123 
 
 "INTENTLY MERRIAM EYED THE CAPTAIN'S FACE," . 131 
 
 MERRIAM KNELT AT HER SIDE, . . . . 139 
 " CAN THERE BE ANY REASON WHY SHE SHOULD 
 
 WISH TO SEE You ALONE?" . . . .152 
 
 " DAMN THOSE INFERNAL IDIOTS ! " . . 161
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 "COME RIGHT ALONG," . . ... 177 
 
 THEN TURNED IN His SADDLE AND WAVED HIGH 
 
 His HAT, . . . . . . 183 
 
 " THEN MRS. BUXTON VENTURED TO FIRE A SHOT," . 189 
 
 " You ALWAYS CALL WHEN I'M WASHING," . . 193 
 
 "ARE You FLO TREMAINE?" , . . . 197 
 "AM I To SCATTER MY MEDICAL STAFF TO THE 
 
 FOUR WINDS?" ...... 213 
 
 " 'I DID TRY,' SHE FALTERED," . . 221 
 
 FANNY, ....... 229 
 
 HOP LING, . . . . . . . 235 
 
 "You HELD THEM THAT You MIGHT TRIUMPH OVER 
 
 MY RUIN," . . . . . . 243 
 
 RANDY MERRIAM, . . . ... . . 240, 
 
 HUNG REVERENTIALLY BACK AS THOUGH WAITING PER 
 MISSION TO VENTURE INTO THE PRESENCE OF A QUEEN, 257 
 " FLORENCE, SWEETHEART," . ... 263
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THERE was more than one reason why Fanny 
 McLane should not have accepted the Graf- 
 tons' invitation to visit them at Fort Sedgwick. 
 Perhaps that was why she never mentioned 
 the matter to her sister, Mrs. Parry, until that 
 lady surprised her in the midst of the packing. 
 
 " Where are you going, Fan?" was the query, 
 half -aggrieved, half-aggressive, the tone in 
 which an elder often addresses a younger sister 
 who has evidently presumed to contemplate 
 some journey, without previous consultation 
 and consent. 
 
 " I ? Why, I thought you knew. Going to 
 spend a week or two with the Graftons." 
 
 "The Graftons! Fanny McLane! You 
 don't mean you're going to Fort Sedgwick?" 
 
 5
 
 6 AM ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "That's their station," answered Mrs. Me- 
 Lane, with slight access of color. 
 
 Mrs. Parry had not yet seated herself. She 
 was still standing at the open doorway, glanc 
 ing quickly from trunk to trunk in the sun 
 shiny but littered room. Now she took a step 
 forward, hesitated one moment as she looked 
 at the maid-servant bending busily over a great 
 Saratoga, and in dumb show intimated to her 
 sister that she wished that open-eyed, open- 
 eared domestic elsewhere. 
 
 But Mrs. McLane was blind to any signals. 
 Indeed she seemed at the moment to find i*- 
 necessary to supervise some of Annette's work, 
 noting which symptom Mrs. Parry's scruples 
 vanished. 
 
 " Fanny, you know perfectly well that's the 
 last place on earth you should go to now, and 
 Mr. McLane not a year in his grave!" 
 
 A redder spot burns in each fair cheek, as 
 the young widow turns quickly and faces her 
 acccuser. 
 
 "And why not, pray? The Graftons are 
 the oldest, dearest friends I have, at least 
 she is."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 7 
 
 "And Randy Merriam isn't there, I sup 
 pose nor his plain wife?" 
 
 "Mr. Merriam 's whereabouts is a matter of 
 entire indifference to me, as you ought to have 
 the decency to know, Charlotte." 
 
 " Ought to be matters of indifference, I con 
 cede, but I have grave doubts as to whether 
 they are, as you say." 
 
 " Then keep your doubts and suspicions to 
 yourself, Charlotte," said Mrs. McLane, with 
 brimming eyes and burning cheeks. " This is 
 no place to speak of such matters," and the 
 brimming eyes which their owner tries hard 
 to induce to blaze instead of brim turn 
 significantly toward Annette, busily packing 
 and assiduously feigning unconsciousness, and 
 then almost defiantly turn back to her sister. 
 
 " I know perfectly well what you mean, 
 Frances," responds the elder, and when "Char 
 lotte" and " Frances" were adopted instead of 
 " Lot" and " Fan" it meant that the sororal re 
 lations were more than strained. 
 
 " I gave you every signal ingenuity could 
 suggest, but you wouldn't see. You didn't 
 want to see, because you thought that" and
 
 8 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 here Mrs. Parry indicates the kneeling Annette 
 with a nod of her very stylishly coifed head 
 "that would keep me from speaking. But 
 this is a case where duty cannot be neglected. 
 Fanny, are you in your right senses?" 
 
 "In every one of the seven, Charlotte, and 
 I don't mean to listen to abuse. You know 
 perfectly well Dr. Mellon said I needed 
 change." 
 
 "Well, then, go to New Orleans, go to Ber 
 muda, go to St. Augustine go to St. Peters 
 burg, Fan anywhere on earth rather than 
 Fort Sedgwick anywhere under heaven ex 
 cept where. Randolph Merriam happens to 
 be unless you would have me believe you 
 lost to " 
 
 But here, with solemn mien enters the male 
 biped who officiates as butler, hall boy, and 
 major domo at the Clarendon Flats a card 
 upon the salver in his pudgy hand, and Mrs. 
 Parry nearly chokes in the necessity for sudden 
 stop. 
 
 "Ask Mr. Swinburne up," says Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane promptly, barely glancing at the black - 
 borciered card and evi4ently glad of the inter-
 
 ' A tid why not, pray ?
 
 AN ARMY WIFE, 9 
 
 ruption. "Now, Charlotte, not another word 
 unless you wish me to show how indignant I 
 am to every visitor who comes in," and Mrs. 
 McLane is busy bathing her flushed cheeks al 
 ready. "How does my hair look?" she adds, 
 turning inquiringly toward the defeated elder, 
 sure that whatever cause of quarrel there 
 may be, that, at least, is subject for truce. 
 
 "Your hair is all right," responds her sister, 
 with marked emphasis and as marked a sense 
 of baffled purpose. " I wish the rest of your 
 head were as well balanced. You don't ex 
 pect me to see Mr. Swinburne, I suppose?" 
 
 "Mr. Swinburne certainly doesn't expect to 
 see you. He is coming mainly on business." 
 
 " You might far better listen to his business, 
 as you call it, even this soon, than go near 
 Randy Merriam." 
 
 " Charlotte, I will not listen to you. If you 
 cannot stay here without insulting me with 
 every other word, you would much better go 
 home and stay home until you can speak 
 sensibly." And with this Mrs. McLane darts 
 past her sister into the passageway, and so on 
 to the parlor front of her suite of apartments,
 
 10 AK ARMY WIFE. 
 
 just as the little electric indicator tells that 
 the elevator has stopped and that some one is 
 at the entrance door. It is Swinburne, a well- 
 preserved, mutton-chop whiskered, carefully 
 groomed fellow of forty-five, and Swinburne 
 bows delightedly over the slender white hand 
 of the pretty and youthful widow and dis 
 appears with her within the cosy parlor. 
 
 " How long has Mrs. McLane been pack 
 ing?" asks Mrs. Parry, presently, of the maid. 
 
 "How long, mum? Oh, two or three days 
 only, though we got down the trunks, mum, 
 on Wednesday last," is Annette's reply. 
 
 "Four trunks and four days' packing to 
 spend a week or so at a frontier post," says 
 Mrs. Parry to herself, with increasing wrath. 
 Then turning, she sweeps through the hall 
 way with the mien of an offended queen, 
 passes the parlor door with barely a glance at 
 the bright, cheery interior, lets herself out 
 with a snap and a slam, and stands angrily 
 tapping her daintily booted foot on the rug in 
 front of the cage until the elevator noiselessly 
 answers her signal and then lowers her to the 
 mosaic pavement of the ground floor. " To
 
 AN 1 ARMY WIFE. II 
 
 Mr. Parry's office," she says to her coachman 
 as she enters the waiting carriage, and is 
 whirled rapidly away down the avenue, past 
 the dancing waters of the lake. 
 
 "Ned," she cries, twenty minutes later, as 
 she precipitates herself into Mr. Parry's 
 ground-glass citadel at the rear of the big 
 office, "what am I to do? Fan is actually 
 packed and ready to start for Fort Sedgwick 
 where Mr. Merriam is stationed!" 
 
 Ned turns slowly toward her, trying not to 
 show in his deep-brown eyes how pleased he 
 is at the sight of his handsome helpmeet. 
 " The first thing you have to do, Mrs. Parry, 
 when you come to this office for advice is to 
 pay the customary retaining fee," he responds, 
 as he takes her carefully gloved hand in his 
 long fingers and bends forward for a kiss. 
 She recoils, pleased, yet provoked. He should 
 have been startled at her revelation, even 
 though he did wish for her kiss. 
 
 "Is that the customary retaining fee, sir?" 
 she asks demurely, forgetful for the moment 
 of the portentous news she brings. " I heard 
 you had quite a number of feminine clients."
 
 12 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "So many that my partners find it as diffi 
 cult to straighten out their accounts as I do 
 their stories. Pardon me, Mrs. Parry, did 
 you say I was retained? If so," and the jun 
 ior member of the distinguished firm of 
 Graeme, Ray burn & Parry again bends down 
 ward toward the glowing face. 
 
 "You're absurd, Ned, if that's what you 
 mean," replies Mrs. Parry, secretly delighted 
 at the lover-like ways of her lord. "I've a 
 mind not to pay anything. You shouldn't 
 charge members of the family." 
 
 "I don't," he answers reflectively, "in all 
 cases. There's Aunt Mildred, for instance, 
 and Aunt Charlotte and grandma, but you and 
 Fan now " 
 
 "Fan! Why should she k consult you?" 
 
 "Why, do you know, Lot, I've never once 
 asked her. She might select some other fel 
 low in the firm and k consult him." 
 
 " Ned, you're simply horrid now. I never 
 did like you when you tried to be funny. 
 You know I never interrupt you here unless 
 I'm troubled about something, and you're just 
 laughing at me instead of sympathizing," and
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 13 
 
 Mrs. Ned pretends to pull away her hands, 
 but conspicuously fails. 
 
 " One of the first principles of my large and 
 successful practice, Mrs. Parry, is to secure 
 prepayment of the retaining fee in all cases 
 where I have reason to believe the client 
 will subsequently act contrary to my advice. 
 When you have Ah, that will have to do, 
 I presume, though it came with a bad grace. 
 And now you say Fan is going to Sedgwick?" 
 
 "Yes, and Randy Merriam's hardly been 
 married a month longer than Mr. McLane's 
 been dead." 
 
 "Astounding coincidence! But Brandy is 
 married, isn't he?" 
 
 " Randy, Ned, not Brandy how your mind 
 runs to such things!" 
 
 "Well, toward five P.M. the firm does feel 
 like running to such things, my best beloved, 
 and is only deterred from doing so by the fact 
 that a touch of the button makes it do the run 
 ning. What shall I order for you?" And 
 Mr. Parry transfers her left hand to its mate 
 reposing in his left, and stretches forth the 
 right toward his desk.
 
 14 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "I want nothing," she answered, "but ad 
 vice, and no more nonsense. Ned," appeal- 
 ingly, "what ought I to do? What can I do?" 
 
 " Are you sure you can do just what I tell 
 you, Lot?" he asks, a fond light playing in his 
 eyes, despite the half -teasing smile. 
 
 "Of course I can. Don't I always?" 
 
 "Well ahem I have known instances 
 But you will do just what I say?" 
 
 "Yes, Ned, I will." 
 
 "Then, your ladyship, let her go and don't 
 worry, /don't, I haven't, a bit." 
 
 " Why, then you have known she was go 
 ing she has told you?" 
 
 " She hasn't. I learned it from Swinburne." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Three days ago." 
 
 "And you never told me, Ned!" reproach 
 fully. 
 
 " Fact!" says Ned, sagely and sententiously. 
 "You would have protested. She would have 
 been the more obstinately determined. There 
 would have been a row, and all to no purpose. 
 Fan has had her own way since she cut her 
 first baby tooth, and there's nothing on earth
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 15 
 
 so independent as a well-to-do young widow. 
 Swinburne's found that out." 
 
 "Ned, I can't bear Swinburne, but I'd 
 rather she'd marry him as soon as it's decent 
 to marry anybody than go out there and 
 fling herself in Randy Merriam's way again. 
 Everybody knows the story." 
 
 " Yes. It was rather a public exhibition of 
 mitten-giving, I'll admit," says Parry reflect 
 ively, "and not two years ago either," he 
 added. Then suddenly " Lot, what sort of 
 fellow is Captain Graf ton?" 
 
 "A very dignified, majestic personage a 
 good deal older than she is, you know, but 
 she's devoted to him and he to her. There's a 
 woman who doesn't do as she pleases, let me 
 tell you ! Captain Grafton will have no non 
 sense going on under his nose, and I'll tell 
 Fan that if she thinks to resume her old flirta 
 tion with Merriam, she'll have to blind Graf- 
 ton first." 
 
 " My love, you forget the compact. You're 
 not to tell Fan anything except good-by. 
 Yes you may send our regards to Merriam 
 by her. He's a particularly nice fello.w, if she
 
 1 6 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 did throw him over for old McLane and his 
 fortune. And, Mrs. Parry, I shouldn't be 
 surprised if our particularly pert and pretty 
 sister were taught a very valuable lesson. 
 
 Therefore do I say, let her go Gal I mean 
 
 let her go. And, talking of going, suppose 
 you drive me home with you. We'll stop and 
 see Fan a minute and Swinburne." 
 
 And stop they do, finding the broker-mag 
 nate still there, though in evident straits. Is 
 it possible for a man in love to look pleased at 
 the coming of visitors in the midst of even 
 a prolonged tt'te-a-t$te ? Swinburne doesn't. 
 He looks infinitely distressed, and Parry 
 doesn't fail to remark it. 
 
 "Hullo, Swinburne! Who'd 'a' thought of 
 seeing you here at this hour? I supposed you 
 never missed a day like this for a drive, yet 
 your team isn't at the door." 
 
 " No er I had business to discuss with Mrs. 
 McLane before her start for the West a jour 
 ney which I had much hoped to hear Mrs. 
 Parry had dissuaded her from taking." 
 
 "Oh, bless you, no!" responds Parry, cheer 
 fully. "The doctor advises change of scene
 
 
 " ' So ? ' fays Parry
 
 A<V ARMY WIFE. 17 
 
 and air, doesn't he, Fan? And Sedgwick's 
 the very place for both. There's no scenery 
 within ten miles of it, and there's more air 
 than they know what to do with ten hours out 
 of twelve. It blows a blizzard there six times 
 a week, doesn't it, Fan?" 
 
 " Then I presume the residents of the post 
 must be unusually charming to offset such 
 monotony of landscape and such objectionable 
 climate," says Swinburne stiffly, and looking 
 ruefully at the fair young widow. " I have 
 not the honor of anybody's acquaintance 
 there," he adds. 
 
 "So?" says Parry. "Why, there's Cap 
 tain and Mrs. Graf ton, old friends of Fan's, 
 you know that is, Mrs. Grafton is, and there's 
 Lieutenant Merriam splendid fellow, that! 
 We knew him so well when he was on duty at 
 the Point. And there's Minturn, of the artil 
 lery, there with his battery. He used to visit 
 us often when Merriam was philandering 
 about Fan here. Oh, yes, there's a raft of 
 pleasant people there." 
 
 Mrs. McLane's pretty face at this juncture 
 is a study. She is flushed, almost tearful;
 
 1 8 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 ready to pull Ned Parry's hair in her wrath, 
 yet hardly able to restrain her merriment at 
 sight of Swinburne, who sits in open-mouthed 
 dismay. For downright mischief a brother- 
 in-law has opportunities accorded no other 
 mortal, and Parry is at once her torment and 
 her delight. Mrs. McLane has been known 
 to say that Charlotte took a very mean advan 
 tage of her in having met him first and 
 " landed" him before he ever saw the sunshine 
 of her own lovely blue eyes. 
 
 Very little alike were these two sisters, de 
 spite the fact that they had lived most of their 
 life together. Educated abroad by a benevo 
 lent aunt after the death of their devoted 
 mother, the girls had returned to America the 
 great year of the Columbian fetes, and Char 
 lotte, the elder by two years, had met Ned 
 Parry, a rising and successful lawyer, before 
 they had been home a month, was engaged to 
 him before the autumn leaves were falling, 
 before Fan even dreamed that anything of the 
 kind was in contemplation, for she, at the 
 moment, was having what she termed a sim 
 ply deliriously delightful time at the Point.
 
 Atf ARMY IVrFB. 19 
 
 Harriet Palmer, her especial friend at school 
 both at home and abroad, had married Cap 
 tain Grafton early that spring, Fan making 
 almost her first appearance in society as one 
 of the bridesmaids on that occasion, and being 
 much impressed with the devotions of the 
 groomsman assigned to her, a handsome, sol 
 dierly fellow by the name of Merriam. He 
 was an officer several years the junior of Cap 
 tain Grafton, but, being of the captain's regi 
 ment and conveniently stationed at West 
 Point, he had been called into requisition with 
 others of his cloth, and a very pretty wedding 
 they had had. And then, as luck would have 
 it, Grafton himself was offered a detail at the 
 Academy, and rather than take his bride to the 
 far frontier so soon after their marriage, he 
 accepted it, and there they spent the summer; 
 and there, in July, Miss Frances Hayward 
 joined them at Mrs. Graf ton's urgent request, 
 and there did Mr. Randolph Merriam fall deep 
 ly and devotedly in love with her, and no one 
 wondered. By far and away she was the 
 prettiest girl at the Point that summer, and 
 Merriam was conceded to be a mighty lucky
 
 20 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 fellow when, very soon after the announce 
 ment of Charlotte Hay ward's forthcoming 
 marriage to Edward Parry, he allowed him 
 self to be congratulated upon his engagement 
 to her younger sister. 
 
 And he had every right to consider himself 
 engaged. She had accepted his attentions, his 
 devotions, eventually his ring and also his 
 presents. He had called upon Aunt and Un 
 cle Mellen in New York, the guardians of the 
 girls, and startled them out of all equanimity 
 by the announcement that Miss Hayward had 
 accepted the offer of his heart and hand con 
 ditioned only on their consent, which he be 
 sought them to give. 
 
 " I own I never thought of her marrying in 
 the army," said Aunt Charlotte, as do other 
 aunts and mothers after their girls have been 
 campaigning at the Point. 
 
 "What income, if any, have you outside 
 your pay?" was Uncle Mellen's more-to-the- 
 point interrogation. 
 
 "Nothing, sir." 
 
 "Well, neither has she. That is, what she 
 has is so small it wouldn't keep that extrava-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 21 
 
 gant child in gloves. You two had better be 
 sensible and think it over." 
 
 Randy Merriam did think it over, but all to 
 no purpose. The more he thought, the more 
 he declared himself hopelessly and irrevocably 
 in love, and as Miss Fan took kindly to his 
 protestations, and Parry and Charlotte took 
 kindly to him and sympathized with the sol 
 dierly fellow, who was evidently much of a 
 gentleman and so much in love, it resulted in 
 his being made welcome at Parry's club, re 
 ceived quite as Parry was at the Mellens 
 since not oftener than once a week could he 
 get away from his duties at the Point, and 
 when Ned and Charlotte were married, as 
 they were in state and style early in the win 
 ter, Merriam had many a good reason for be 
 lieving that, despite his poverty, the next 
 wedding reception held at the Mellens' beau 
 tiful home would be one in which he would be 
 vitally interested. 
 
 Well, he was ; but not in the way or man 
 ner expected. In fact, he did not attend the 
 ceremony or the reception ; indeed, he was not 
 bidden. A very disagreeable thing hap-
 
 22 AN ARMY WIPE. 
 
 pened to him within a month after the Parry- 
 Hayward wedding, one that overwhelmed him 
 with mortification and distress, and caused no 
 little indignation among his comrades. 
 
 Everybody knew Randy Merriam was in 
 debt. He made no secret of it. He was ex 
 travagant in his tastes, had incurred obliga 
 tions before going on duty at the Point, and 
 found it impossible to "catch up" there. 
 There were three or four accounts he had 
 been asked to settle, as they had been run 
 ning some time, but he put them off from 
 month to month, hoping that he might soon 
 be able to obtain possession of a small sum of 
 money left him by the will of a relative two 
 years before. It was only a few thousand dol 
 lars, yet even that had been contested, to 
 gether with a number of similar bequests, and 
 the legal complications had been as exasperat 
 ing as the law's delay could make them. One 
 day, soon after Charlotte's wedding, Merriam 
 was summoned to the presence of the super 
 intendent and was regretfully told that four of 
 his creditors had united in an appeal to the 
 War Department, and the matter had been
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 23 
 
 referred to him as post commander. Merriam 
 was confounded. He had seen and talked 
 with one of them only a few weeks before, 
 and no such action had even been hinted at. 
 Nor did he know that any one of their number 
 was aware of his indebtedness to the others. 
 Frankly he had told Miss Fan of these matters 
 before he told her of his love, but it made, 
 apparently, no impression on her. " Let them 
 wait," she said. "You'll soon be able to pay 
 them ten times over." Frankly he had talked 
 of it to one or two of his intimates, and later 
 to Parry, who had grown to like him, and who, 
 as a lawyer, thought his little inheritance could 
 not be much longer withheld. It would free 
 him ; it would very prettily furnish their quar 
 ters and still leave a few hundreds to the fore. 
 He remembered, too, that Uncle Mellen had 
 made some inquiries of him, and that in per 
 fect frankness he had replied. And now, just 
 at the moment when he was full of hope and 
 happiness, came this cruel mortification. 
 Such action on the part of his creditors was 
 unaccountable, but, as the superintendent said, 
 it was a solemn fact. Deeply chagrined, he
 
 24 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 told the colonel the whole story, and the colo 
 nel was full of sympathy, but as full of sense. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Merriam," said he, "but there's 
 only one thing for you to do. There's no 
 telling when you'll ever get that inheritance. 
 When lawyers once get hold of an estate it's 
 dollars to dimes nobody else ever does, and 
 by the time judgment is awarded in your 
 favor, it will be eaten up in fees and innumer 
 able charges. You cannot count on a cent of 
 it. You cannot save anything to speak of 
 here. Just capitalize those debts of yours; 
 borrow the money from some business man on 
 reasonable time and interest, get your life 
 insured in his favor, and go out and join your 
 troop. We can have you relieved as at your 
 own request, and once out on the frontier you 
 can save so much a month, and little by little 
 pull yourself out." 
 
 And leaving his pretty sweetheart, his 
 chosen friends, and pleasant surroundings, this 
 was exactly what Randy Merriam did. Ned 
 Parry, with a puzzled look on his face, had 
 listened to his mournful recital, had promptly 
 offered his services and his bank account, and
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 25 
 
 made but one stipulation: "Don't you go 
 near those fellows, Merriam. Let me have 
 the bills and I'll send you the receipts," for 
 Parry had a theory of his own. 
 
 Sedgwick was as dreary a post, so far as 
 surroundings were concerned, as could be 
 found in the West. It stood on a pebbly 
 mesa, flat and barren, overlooking the narrow, 
 tortuous, shallow canon through which rip 
 pled the waters of the San Mateo. Across the 
 western horizon hung a low, jagged curtain of 
 distant blue mountains. Far away to the 
 northwest a snow-peak shimmered in the daz 
 zling sunshine, but north, east, and south the 
 low rolling contour of the prairie, like the 
 ground swell of the ocean, was lost in illimit 
 able monotony. The only trees were some 
 willows down in an arroyo that emptied its 
 rivulet after a rain-storm into the stream. 
 The only green things were the blinds and 
 vines upon the piazas of the officers' quarters. 
 Yet Sedgwick was a big post, an important 
 post, for a great Indian reservation lay only 
 twenty miles away toward the mountains. 
 Two lines of railway met at the junction
 
 26 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 three miles down stream, and by riding a 
 few miles westward one came suddenly upon 
 a fertile valley, where grass and trees abounded, 
 and where all nature seemed to smile, and 
 where by rights the old post should have been 
 located ; but all that was Indian reservation 
 when Sedgwick was built, and not until long 
 after did the territorial officials succeed in get 
 ting it lopped off from Lo's allotment and 
 thrown open to settlement. Along the bow 
 ery shades of the Santa Clara were now 
 ranches by the dozen, and a hundred or more 
 of enterprising settlers, and between them 
 and the thronging garrison at Sedgwick was 
 peace and good will and every kindly relation, 
 when Randy Merriam came out in the Decem 
 ber of the Columbian year, determined to take 
 his punishment like a man. He had sworn off 
 cigars and extravagances of any and every 
 kind. For a time he even declined to sub 
 scribe to the hops, which were charming 
 affairs, for the band was excellent and the 
 regiment blessed with many lovely and lov 
 able women. " Merriam spends all his money 
 in stamps," was the comment of the garrison
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 27 
 
 wits, for he wrote day after day to his distant 
 darling in the East. That winter Ned Parry 
 accepted the junior partnership in the great 
 firm of Graeme & Rayburn in Chicago, and 
 moved thither with his lovely wife, while Fan 
 remained with Aunt and Uncle Mellen in 
 
 * 
 
 Gotham, pining, presumably, for her far-away 
 soldier boy, and yet writing much less fre 
 quently than he did, for the demands of soci 
 ety were incessant and auntie kept her " on 
 the go." 
 
 One day in April there came a letter from 
 the East at sight of which Randy Merriam's 
 face was radiant with joy. It briefly told him 
 that the long litigation was over and that some 
 thirty-five hundred dollars, all that was left of 
 the original six thousand, were at his disposal. 
 Jubilantly, confidently then, he wrote to Fanny 
 to name the day, and in course of time there 
 came a reply, long, self -accusing, penitent, 
 miserable, but all-sufficient. The day was 
 named, and so was the man Mr. John Har 
 old McLane, of New York, a wealthy widower 
 of fifty-five.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE wedding of Miss Hay ward ^ and Mr. 
 McLane followed so speedily the announce 
 ment of the engagement that elderly club 
 men, long years the chums of the groom, 
 barely had time to concoct suitable forms of 
 compliment and congratulation. The recep 
 tion which followed the ceremony, however, 
 was on such a scale of magnificence as to leave 
 little room for doubt that the Mellens had long 
 been preparing for the event. The business 
 relations existing for a decade between Uncle 
 Mellen and John McLane were well under 
 stood. Indeed the match was declared to be 
 of Uncle Mellen 's making, and the whole 
 transaction was openly referred to by younger 
 club men as a most Mellencholly affair. Char 
 lotte Parry went on from Chicago to attend it, 
 but Ned, her devoted lord, pleading very 
 pressing professional engagements, positively 
 
 refused to go. He wrote a letter to Uncle 
 
 28
 
 Then turned away.
 
 AN ARMY WIF. 29 
 
 Mellen about that time, however, which gave 
 other reasons for his non-attendance, and to 
 which the recipient, after several attempts, 
 found it impossible to reply. Mrs. Parry hast 
 ened back to Chicago immediately after the 
 reception, and from that day neither she nor 
 her husband set foot within the Mellens' doors. 
 Aunt Charlotte declared the conduct of her 
 niece most undutiful, ungrateful, unaccount 
 able, but her husband said nothing. 
 
 The bride was a vision of girlish beauty, 
 that bright June wedding day, and McLane 
 was as handsome and well-preserved a fellow 
 of fifty-five as even New York could show. He 
 w r as evidently deeply in love and immeasurably 
 proud and happy. As for the lady, she looked 
 to the full as joyous and radiant as any lover 
 lord could ask, and her manner toward Mc 
 Lane, much " more than twice her years" 
 nearly three times, in fact was sweet, shy, 
 appealing, and trusting, all in one. Many wo 
 men in society, old and young, envied her, 
 and everybody appropriately congratulated 
 him and wished her joy. Mac's plan for the 
 honeymoon included a yachting tour through
 
 30 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 the Scottish Isles and so on to North Cape, 
 but Fan surprised him. She had seen so much 
 of Europe, she said, and so little of their own 
 country. Couldn't they go to Chicago for the 
 World's Fair, and then to Niagara and down 
 the St. Lawrence, and through the White 
 Mountains and the Catskills? So this they 
 did, coming back to Gotham for a round of 
 receptions and social gayeties in the late au 
 tumn, then going to Florida and thence to 
 New Orleans for the Mardi Gras, and then 
 Fan begged to be taken to Coronado and Mon 
 terey. She longed, she said, to see Southern 
 California, and the " Sunset Route" bore them 
 within three miles of old Fort Sedgwick on 
 their westward way. 
 
 The Graftons were still at West Point. 
 There was only one officer at the post whom 
 she knew, and none who were known to her 
 husband. It was five o'clock of a soft, sun 
 shiny February afternoon, one of those match 
 less days for which the valley of the Rio Bravo 
 is famous. McLane was playing "dummy" in 
 the smoking-room. The young wife was 
 yawning over a book. She was looking, it
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 31 
 
 must be owned, not only bored, but somewhat 
 dusty and dishevelled, and she was conscious 
 of the fact, which made her look still worse. 
 She was remarking how baked and dry and 
 dreary and monotonous was the landscape, 
 and wondering where they were and what was 
 the name of those far-away blue mountains 
 under the fiery path of the sun geography 
 was not one of her strong points when the 
 train slackened speed and rolled slowly into a 
 station that seemed more populous than any 
 recently passed, and there stood another train, 
 almost the counterpart of their own, and on 
 the station platform of what was evidently a 
 connecting road were groups of swarthy, 
 cigarette-smoking Mexicans, a few stolid, si 
 lent Indians, and then was it possible? styl 
 ishly, fashionably dressed women, and officers 
 in riding garb, and there at the platform stood 
 waiting ambulances and orderlies with led 
 horses, and the sound of merry chat and 
 laughter came floating in at the open window, 
 and people occupying sections on the left side 
 of the Pullman crossed over to her side, and 
 gazed with all their eyes. " What's the name
 
 32 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 of this station?" some one asked the por 
 ter. "Santa Fe Junction," was the answer. 
 "Yawnduh's Foht Sedgwick, three miles out 
 there on the mesa." 
 
 Fanny McLane's heart gave a sudden jump. 
 The train, which had stopped an instant be 
 fore crossing the other track, moved slowly 
 on, and then under the grip of the air-brakes 
 came to a stand beside the platform, and, con 
 scious that she was looking her worst look 
 ing yellow, in fact she drew back from the 
 window and hastily lowered the shade. Then 
 merry voices and laughter, and light, bound 
 ing footsteps were heard at the head of the 
 car, and in came a joyous party, officers and 
 ladies. A tall, slender girl seemed the ob 
 ject of general interest, and her bundles and 
 wraps were deposited in the opposite section 
 by one officer; another bore a brand-new bag, 
 another a bunch of beautiful roses, and ten 
 women hung about the girl and kissed her 
 and cooed over her; and, with the experienced 
 eye of her sex, Mrs. McLane needed only one 
 glance at the pretty, stylish travelling suit, at 
 the jaunty little hat, at the slender tapering
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 33 
 
 boot, all so new and glossy, to realize at once 
 that here was a bride an army bride and 
 one beloved of her kind, for one women after 
 another clung to her as they kissed, and many 
 eyes were wet, and all were filled with love 
 and trust and tenderness. " God bless you, 
 Floy, darling!" cried one enthusiastic girl. 
 "I'm so, so glad we've got you in our regi 
 ment. I was so afraid the Riflers would never 
 let you go." And this, too, seemed an all- 
 pervading sentiment among the men whose 
 caps were decorated with crossed sabres, while 
 others, who wore the badge of the infantry, 
 and their wives and daughters, seemed to 
 have another song to sing. " Florence, you 
 broke our hearts by marrying out of the regi 
 ment, but at least we'll soon have you back at 
 Sedgwick," was the purport of what was said 
 by more than one of their number. 
 
 Then came warnings to leave the train. 
 The conductor was shouting "All aboard!" 
 and, bearing her with them, they rushed tu- 
 multuously to the rear platform. Then, very 
 slowly at first, the car began to move, and the 
 other occupants of the Pullman poked their
 
 34 Atf AtiMV 
 
 heads out of the windows and looked back 
 along the platform, as acclamations followed 
 them. But Mrs. McLane still shrank behind 
 the lowered shade, her heart beating strangely, 
 and her ears straining as though to catch the 
 tones of a voice long unheard, last heard 
 only with sweet emotions. Manly tones were 
 shouting Godspeeds and good-byes. Wom 
 anly voices were adding their inconsiderate 
 pleas for letters, and then as the speed in 
 creased and the voices died away, the passen 
 gers slipped back to their sections and strove 
 not to seem to be on the watch for the return 
 of the bride. It was quite a little while before 
 she reappeared. Mrs. McLane was conscious 
 she was coming because of the backward 
 glances of her fellow-travellers, and, under 
 their long lashes, her own eyes took their eager, 
 sidelong peep. She came slowly, a tall sol 
 dierly form in gray travelling garb close at 
 her side, one arm half encircling, half sup 
 porting her. She had evidently been weeping 
 a little, for as she seated herself and looked 
 fondly up in his face the great lustrous, deep- 
 brown eyes were wet with tears, but the face
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 35 
 
 was glorified by the love and trust that shone 
 in them. A broad-shouldered back, bending 
 devotedly over the girl, was about all Fanny 
 McLane could see of the escort, but it was 
 enough to cause her heart to stand suddenly 
 still. She felt as though she were choking, as 
 though she must have air. Then she heard 
 his voice, deep-toned, manly, tender, the very 
 tones her ears had been straining to hear a 
 few minutes before, and then springing from 
 her seat, her handkerchief raised to and 
 shrouding her face, she too hurried to the 
 rear door of the car and stood there clinging 
 to the rail for support. The man in gray, the 
 devoted bridegroom, was Randolph Merriam. 
 
 And there at the rear door she hovered until 
 the clouds of choking dust drove her within. 
 It was the men's end of the car, and fragrant 
 cigar-smoke was drifting from the room in 
 which her husband and his cronies were play 
 ing whist. If only the long car were turned 
 end for end! If only she could get her bag 
 and reach the women's toilet-room unobserved. 
 Let him, and his and that girl see her look 
 ing as she was now? not for worlds! Get to
 
 36 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 that toilet-room and wash away the grime and 
 dust and cinders, get out her alcohol lamp and 
 curl that rebellious, stringy "front," and prink 
 and powder and retouch those faded lashes 
 and brows all this she must do before facing 
 him and her. But how to get there without 
 being seen. She must pass them so close as 
 almost to touch his shoulder. No ! A furtive 
 peep from behind the brown curtain into the 
 dim interior revealed the broad gray shoulders 
 bent far over to the girl's end of the seat. He 
 was leaning over her, looking down into her 
 eyes, talking earnestly to her. There was no 
 comfort in the sight. It stung her to instant 
 action. They were running swiftly down 
 grade now, following the windings of the San 
 Mateo, but she made a rush for her section, 
 grabbed the handsome silver-mounted bag that 
 lay just within reach, and with bowed head 
 and bent form was hastening on, when the 
 forward trucks struck a sharp curve, the big 
 car gave a sudden lurch that tumbled her into 
 the section directly in front of the blissful 
 couple, and sprawled her ignominiously upon 
 the front seat. The occupant of the other
 
 McLan*.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 37 
 
 was a snoring commercial traveller. Her bag 
 dropped in the crash, fell to the floor, and 
 burst open, and before she could recover her 
 self or its contents, the man in gray had 
 sprung to her aid, had bundled an escaping 
 scent-flask and other trifles back into the re 
 ceptacle, shut its silver lips with a snap, and, 
 bowing courteously, endeavored to restore it. 
 Averting her face covering it almost with 
 her handkerchief she strove to rise and go 
 her way, but the car still swayed and swung. 
 He put forth a helping hand to lift her to her 
 feet, but she did not see it. Scrambling out, 
 still hiding her face, she seized again her 
 satchel, and, never looking, never speaking, 
 hurried past him and disappeared at the for 
 ward end of the car, leaving Merriam gazing 
 blankly, fixedly after her. 
 
 " Didn't she speak to you at all?" asked the 
 bride, a moment later, as Merriam, with a 
 strange, dazed look on his face, returned to 
 his seat by her side. " I'm afraid she's dread 
 fully hurt, for her knee struck the seat-arm 
 ever so hard." 
 
 And still Merriam could not speak.
 
 38 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "What is it, Randy?" she whispered, after 
 a moment's anxious study of his face. " You 
 look so unlike yourself." 
 
 With an effort he pulled himself together. 
 "Did you see her face, Floy, dear? What 
 was she like?" 
 
 "Why, she's a blond with I only got 
 a glimpse, Randy she's a blond with light 
 hair and blue eyes. She might be pretty. 
 Why, dear?" And the dear came so timidly. 
 
 " I thought I had seen her before, but it's 
 impossible absurd. Go on and tell me what 
 Mrs. Grafton wrote you, sweetheart. Never 
 mind the capsized blond just now." 
 
 But he himself could "mind" no one else 
 when, half an hour later, there came tripping 
 down the aisle from the ladies' toilet-room a 
 slender, graceful, stylishly draped figure with 
 such a radiantly pretty girl- woman face a fair, 
 sweet blond, with lovely curling hair, the 
 brightest of big blue eyes, the rosiest of tiny 
 mouths, with glimpses of snow-white teeth as 
 she smilingly approached and, with infinite 
 grace, held out a prettily gloved hand. 
 
 " To think that I should have been here in
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 39 
 
 time to tender my congratulations! Won't 
 you present me to Mrs. Merriam?" 
 
 And Randolph Merriam, for once in his life, 
 was utterly at a loss what to say or do. He 
 could hardly speak. He could hardly breathe. 
 "Floy," he finally said and his tone was 
 strange and cold, "this is Mrs. McLane, of 
 New York, an old acquaintance," then turned 
 away as Mrs. McLane effusively, delightedly 
 bent over that she might shake hands with 
 the bride. 
 
 It was early evening too early for twilight 
 effects, yet the shadows were falling thick on 
 Florence Merriam 's wedding-day before the 
 setting of the glowing sun.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Two days after the receipt of the announce 
 ment of Fanny Hayward's engagement to Mr. 
 McLane and a few weeks before the marriage, 
 Randolph Merriam had left Fort Sedgwick in 
 command of a detachment of cavalry escorting 
 a government survey to the Mescalero Range. 
 It was not his tour. The detail belonged to 
 Harrison, a younger officer, who had been sav 
 ing up all winter for a two months' leave and 
 a chance to spend his savings at the great 
 Exposition at Chicago. A relentless colonel 
 would allow him no leave, because it was his 
 turn for field duty, and because so many offi 
 cers wished to go to the Fair that it was out of 
 the question to expect any one to offer to take 
 the detail for him. The detachment would be 
 in the field at least three months, possibly 
 four. Harrison, consequently, was the bluest 
 man at Sedgwick, and said more hard things 
 
 about government surveys, and more improper 
 40
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 41 
 
 things, than could well be recorded here. 
 Everybody had been congratulating Merriam 
 on the final receipt of what the lawyers didn't 
 "scoop" of his little legacy, and for two weeks 
 he had been as happy as Harrison was miser 
 able. Then, to the utter amaze of everybody, 
 just the day before it was time for the com 
 mand to start, it was announced that Harri 
 son's application for leave had gone forward 
 approved, and that Merriam had asked for 
 and been granted the luxury of a three or four 
 months' jog through the roughest and most 
 forbidding of mountain ranges. He had even 
 got the colonel's permission to go ahead and 
 wait for the detachment at the old Mission on 
 the Santa Clara, and had started late at night, 
 accompanied only by an orderly. People 
 couldn't believe their ears, and the post com 
 mander rejoiced in the possession of a secret 
 even his wife couldn't coax out of him the 
 conscienceless, crabbed old crank! as one of 
 his garrison, not subject to court-martial, de 
 scribed him. The adjutant had to admit that 
 Merriam had been closeted with the K. O. 
 nearly half an hour, and had looked black and
 
 42 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 blue both, but no blacker, no bluer, when he 
 came out than when he went in. No, he did 
 not think that anybody else had complained 
 of Merriam's owing him money. He did not 
 think anybody had had a word to say against 
 him. The old man had simply sent for the 
 adjutant right after the interview and re 
 marked: "Mr. Blossom, you can tell Mr. Har 
 rison he may submit that application for leave 
 and I'll forward it approved. Mr. Merriam 
 has my consent to take that escort in his 
 stead." But hadn't he told anybody? Didn't 
 'anybody know? were the very natural ques 
 tions asked. No. Merriam's one intimate 
 and chum in his regiment was Bill Whittaker, 
 and Bill was away up at Santa Fe at the time, 
 a witness before a general court-martial. 
 Merriam was a frequent visitor at the Haynes' 
 quarters, and everybody knew that in his own 
 regiment he had no warmer friends than Cap 
 tain and Mrs. Lawrence Hayne, of the Riflers, 
 and Merriam had had a long talk with Hayne 
 before calling on the colonel. But no one 
 who knew either Hayne or his charming wife 
 ever thought of trying to extract from them
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 43 
 
 information as to other people's personal af 
 fairs. Old Buxton, the dragoon-of-the-old- 
 army-sort of a lieutenant-colonel, did try to 
 pump the captain, but was most coolly and 
 civilly snubbed for his pains. Buxton was a 
 man Hayne never spoke to except in the most 
 formal way. There had been some trouble 
 between them ever so long ago, when Hayne 
 was a young second lieutenant and " Bux" 
 the senior captain of the th Cavalry. The 
 softening touch of time had effaced much of 
 the bitterness of that old, old story. Hayne 
 had twice been stationed at the same garrison 
 with Buxton, and found it awkward to pre 
 serve the rule of non -intercourse with a field 
 officer who was frequently in command, so he 
 spoke respectfully and courteously to his sen 
 ior whenever they met, but the courtesy was 
 as cold and the meetings as rare as he could 
 make them. Bux, however, "bore no malice," 
 as he said, and was quite ready to be magnan 
 imous and forgive Hayne for what had tran 
 spired in the past, but then Buxton, not Hayne, 
 had been the offender. Indeed, Buxton was a 
 pachyderm on whom snubs had little effect.
 
 44 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 He believed Hayne knew why Merriam had 
 asked for his most undesirable detail, and so 
 importuned him with eager inquiry all to no 
 purpose. Harrison blissfully went in to Chi 
 cago and Merriam out to the Mescalero, and 
 was no more heard of or from for several 
 weeks. Then the news came that he was se 
 riously ill with mountain fever at the canton 
 ment on Catamount Creek, and Bill Whittaker 
 was hurried thither to take over the command. 
 
 In a week there came a letter from him to 
 Captain Hayne, and this was what it said : 
 
 " I found the dear old boy convalescing, but 
 wofully limp and weak. Tremaine says he 
 was wild as a loon when the men brought him 
 in. They saw that he was burning with fever 
 for days, and begged him to go to the canton 
 ment for medical attention, but he bade them 
 mind their own business and obstinately stuck 
 to the work. The gentlemen of the survey 
 soon saw that he was going flighty and, later, 
 delirious, and they took the responsibility of 
 telling the sergeant he must be sent thither. 
 They made a fore-and-aft litter by lashing sap 
 lings together, hitched on a couple of pack-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 45 
 
 mules, roped Randy inside the thing, and 
 made a four-day march of it. Luckily, Tre- 
 maine had a capital medical officer and Randy 
 a splendid constitution. The fever had a big 
 start, but Dr. Wells and Tremaine's people 
 
 * 
 
 were utterly devoted to him, and pulled him 
 through, but you never saw such a living skel 
 eton. Dr. Wells says he will mend rapidly 
 now, as he eats about six square meals a day 
 and is hungry between times. Mrs. Tre- 
 maine nursed him like a mother, Heaven 
 bless her! and now Miss Florence reads to 
 him by the hour." 
 
 And at this point in Whittaker's innocent 
 missive, Mrs. Hayne, who was clinging to her 
 husband's arm and reading with him, sud 
 denly looked up in his face and said, "Oh, 
 Lawrence! wouldn't that be almost ideal?" 
 
 " Floy" Tremaine, as she was called in the 
 regiment, was an only child, born and reared 
 in the Riflers. Two years of her life had 
 been spent in the East at school, but with that 
 exception it had known no companionship or 
 association outside the garrison that was the 
 temporary home of her father's company.
 
 46 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 An open-air, joyous, healthful life it was, ad 
 mirable for nerves, arteries, and digestion, yet 
 destructive to complexion, for at fifteen Floy 
 Tremaine was as brown as a Navajo, when 
 they took her to St. Anne's to school, where 
 she was promptly dubbed "the Squaw." The 
 first six months there, despite the fact that 
 her mother was near at hand, took a good deal 
 of heart out of Florence and some of the 
 prairie tan from her face. Her big, soft, 
 brown eyes grew even more eloquent and 
 pathetic, and her pretty mouth gained some 
 wistful lines about its sensitive corners. She 
 did not take to city girls nor did they to her, 
 until her father came in on leave, and, noting 
 the change in his precious child, took counsel 
 with an old Manhattan friend, ordered a swell 
 riding-costume forthwith, and bade her join 
 the class at Dickel's Academy not that she 
 needed teaching to ride, but the exercise and 
 open air to be had in the daily demure canter 
 in the park. One or two of the girls were 
 quite dashing horsewomen, and excited the 
 envy and admiration of their classmates by the 
 ease with which they took the conventional
 
 Clea? ing them like a bird.' 1
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 47 
 
 leaps at the hurdles and bars ; and when one of 
 them, flushed with triumph, after receiving 
 the compliments of the master, reined up be 
 side our silent Florence, on a rainy afternoon 
 when their ride had to be within doors, and 
 rather patronizingly queried, "Ah, don't you 
 do something of this sort out on the plains, 
 Miss Tremaine?" Florence reddened a bit 
 and said, "The children do sometimes," which 
 led to prompt inquiry as to her meaning, and 
 the explanation that the cavalry horses and 
 even the Indian ponies would take such obsta 
 cles in their stride and hardly rise to the leap 
 at all. Asked to illustrate, she put her bay at 
 the hurdles, clearing them like a bird; then, 
 turning to Miss De Ruyter, she said: "You 
 noticed even this horse hardly had to spring. 
 Now if Mr. Dickel will let me have the bar a 
 foot higher I can show you where he has to 
 exert himself a bit;" and she did, and no other 
 one of the girls dared attempt it. Then she 
 asked to have her saddle removed and rode 
 her horse over the hurdles bareback, and when 
 he was going at an easy canter about the ring 
 amazed the class by leaping lightly off and on
 
 48 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 again, her slim, strong young hands grasping 
 the mane, yet never dragging upon the rein. 
 This made her envied, but hardly enviable, 
 for the erstwhile champions of the school gave 
 it out that she had been a "child wonder" in 
 some far-western circus. It wasn't until Flo's 
 second year at St. Anne's that she began 
 to find either friends or appreciation there. 
 When she left at the close of that second year, 
 there was one set at least among whose mem 
 bers she was well-nigh worshipped. She had 
 not finished the course. She needed at least 
 one more year, said the teachers, but it 
 couldn't be. Tremaine had listened to the 
 tempter, invested his scant savings in a Colo 
 rado mine that for one year gave dividends 
 galore, and then gave out. There could be 
 no separate establishment maintained on the 
 pay of a captain of infantry, who was keeping 
 up a heavy life insurance. Florence and her 
 mother were recalled to the Riflers, and, to 
 still further promote the economy demanded 
 by their misfortune, Captain Tremaine begged 
 to be allowed to go to the cantonment on the 
 Catamount, relieving with his company a like
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 49 
 
 force that had been there in exile over a year. 
 People at regimental headquarters thought it 
 absolutely heartless in him to take Mrs. Tre- 
 maine and dear Florence to such a desert, 
 so near the Navajos to the north, and so 
 exposed to danger from predatory bands of 
 Apaches from across the Arizona line. But 
 neither Mrs. Tremaine nor Florence shared 
 their views. Floy was to have her books, 
 her birds, her horse; her mother could di 
 rect her reading, and, as for companionship, 
 there was Mrs. Lee, the wife of their first lieu 
 tenant; she was barely twenty-five, and a 
 charming young matron ; and Jimmy Crofton, 
 their junior sub, was engaged and would soon 
 bring his bride out to join. She didn't doubt 
 that they would have a perfectly lovely time, 
 hunting, fishing, exploring in the mountains, 
 and riding races down the Catamount. Flor 
 ence's face would glow with enthusiasm; it 
 would become transfigured, radiant yes, al 
 most pretty, said some of the ladies so proud 
 did she seem to feel at sharing her father's 
 lot. So, though few agreed that Florence 
 was a beauty, all decreed that she was a trump, 
 4
 
 5$ Atf AMY WIFE. 
 
 a fond and dutiful daughter, a sweet, sunny- 
 natured child, who would make a lovely woman 
 and wife one of these days. "Only," said 
 Mrs. Hayne, with a world of tenderness in 
 her tone " only I hope it may be the right 
 man. Girls with those big brown eyes love 
 so deeply." 
 
 The cantonment turned out to be something 
 of an Eden as an army post. Four companies 
 had once been stationed there, so there was 
 lots of room, but after the last lot of Apache 
 marauders had been translated to the shores 
 of the Atlantic, matters aboriginal quieted 
 down in Arizona and western New Mexico. 
 The cavalry were needed elsewhere, and could 
 not easily be supplied at so isolated a post ; so 
 the two troops were marched back to the 
 valley of the Bravo, and then, soon after Tre- 
 maine moved thither, it was decided to recall 
 one of the two infantry commands maintained 
 there; that sent Captain Thompson back to 
 headquarters, and left only the Tremaines, 
 the Lees, and Dr. Wells, for Jimmy Crofton's 
 fiancee s father had got him away on detached 
 service ; and this was the commissioned society
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. $1 
 
 left at Catamount when Randy Merriam, borne 
 in a litter, delirious, and wearing the willow 
 for Fanny McLane, was brought in to be 
 nursed and coddled back to health again, and 
 Tremaine made ready for him a big, airy room 
 under his own roof. 
 
 Not for six weeks was Randy able to ride 
 again, and states have been lost and won in 
 less. There is little need of dwelling on 
 the progressive stages of the unpremeditated 
 siege. Billy Whittaker got there compara 
 tively early in the game, when convalescence 
 had just begun to be assured when Florence, 
 shy and soft of voice, was just beginning the 
 daily readings aloud to her patient readings 
 which, as such, began soon to shorten, though 
 reader and audience remained long and longer 
 in each other's presence. By and by the book 
 was but a superfluity. It lay unopened in her 
 lap, as she sat, with downcast eyes and flushing 
 cheeks, beside the hammock wherein her hero 
 patient lay, and the anxious mother noted 
 how, little by little, the girl's soft, silvery 
 tones would become hushed, how his voice, 
 deep and strong again, yet tender and sub-
 
 52 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 clued, would take up the thread of some old, 
 old story ; and one day in alarm she fled to her 
 husband's study, for Florence was weeping in 
 her room. 
 
 "Do not interfere by look or word," said 
 that wise man. " He will be well enough to 
 rejoin his fellows in the field next week, and 
 they'll soon get over it. If they don't they 
 can get married. That will put an end to it." 
 
 "But think," persisted his better half; "it's 
 Florence I'm troubled about. It's she who 
 may not soon get over it. Hers is a deep " 
 
 But here the captain arose and amazed his 
 wife by taking her in his arms and speaking 
 with a choking sob in his voice. 
 
 " Don't talk of it, Dot !" he said. " I'm the 
 one to blame. I never thought of Brownie as 
 anything but a child until three days ago. 
 I've been praying you wouldn't see it that 
 there'd be nothing more to see, but " and 
 here the gray stubble about the captain's 
 mouth began to twitch and work convulsively, 
 and he had to stop. 
 
 " You know he was engaged to somebody 
 East, and it was broken off," said Mrs. Tre-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 53 
 
 maine, "and I hadn't thought of danger until 
 just a day or two ago Now if he's going 
 next week, as he says and she has learned to 
 care for him, what can we do?" 
 
 "He is going next week," said Tremaine. 
 " He told me yesterday he ought to go now, 
 and wished to go now. It was Wells who for 
 bade. But Grafton always liked Merriam and 
 Hayne believes in him. Our Florence might 
 do worse, Dot." 
 
 "But do you understand?" she said, "do 
 you realize that, just from proximity perhaps, 
 Florence may have learned to care for him, 
 while he is still thinking of his lost love?" 
 
 " You mean that you think it all Florence 
 and not Merriam?" he asked, starting back, 
 and holding her from him, and looking with 
 amaze and incredulity into her eyes straight 
 into her anxious, tearful face. "Why, Dot, 
 it isn't possible! She he he must have 
 learned to care for her. It couldn't be other 
 wise. Only I hadn't thought of Floy except 
 as a child, and I wasn't prepared." 
 
 Like many another father, to whom a daugh 
 ter is as the apple of the eye, Tremaine coulc|
 
 54 AN ARMY WIFE, 
 
 see no fault, no failing in his child. To him 
 she was the fairest, as she was the best, fond 
 est, most dutiful girl in the whole army. One 
 of his favorite plans had been to take her to 
 West Point the previous summer, and let her, 
 as he said to himself, "paralyze the corps." 
 One of the sweet dreams he had often dreamed 
 was of the evening when, with Florence on his 
 arm, he should re-enter the old mess hall, 
 which he had not visited since it was bravely 
 decked for the 2 8th-of- August hop, the year of 
 his marriage. He had promised to take her 
 thither for the graduating ball, and had pic 
 tured her as the belle of the occasion, sought 
 eagerly by the cadets as their partner for waltz 
 or "two-step;" and, as in his eyes she was the 
 most perfect creature that ever lived or moved, 
 his one anxiety was lest the boys in gray, al 
 ways susceptible, should forget that Floy was 
 only a child and fall in love with her forth 
 with. It never occurred to him as a possi 
 bility that Floy in her turn might fall in love. 
 But there was no delicious visit for Florence 
 to the Point that year. The moment exami 
 nations were over at school her mother started
 
 " // lay unopened in her lap
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 55 
 
 with her for the far West, and Tremaine met 
 them at Santa Fe Junction. Then, after one 
 brief week at Sedgwick, they had started for 
 the cantonment, and there had led their un 
 eventful life until the coming of Randy Mer- 
 riam, prostrate, with the days of another June. 
 And now, while Florence was in tears and hid 
 ing in her pretty room above stairs, this er 
 rant, erring, invalid warrior, with no word or 
 sign of being himself sorely heart-smitten, 
 was determinedly talking of going back forth 
 with to the mountain trails. Tremaine would 
 not let his beloved helpmeet speak, either to 
 Florence or to Merriam, but he fully meant to 
 say more words than one to Merriam himself, 
 and then he bethought him of Dalrymple, and 
 the famous frock that doughty major donned 
 whenever he sallied forth to ask the intentions 
 of O'Malley's dashing light dragoons, and this 
 reflection gave him pause. If, either by acci 
 dent or design, the heart of his precious child 
 had become wrapped up in Merriam, then 
 Merriam should not leave the post without an 
 explanation. But there was yet time. It 
 might be that the poor fellpw was realty sore
 
 56 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 smitten himself, and that the tender but un- 
 conquered heart of his daughter was touched 
 with pity for his suffering. 
 
 Meantime the culprit officer himself had 
 been carefully lifted into the doctor's buggy, 
 and with that excellent practitioner was en 
 joying a drive. The one thing Wells could 
 not understand was that, while his patient 
 rapidly gained in health, flesh, and appetite, 
 he seemed so to droop in spirits. Not one 
 word had he been told of Merriam's broken 
 engagement, beyond what Mrs. Tremaine had 
 imparted, and she could give but scanty infor 
 mation. Merriam was grateful for all the care 
 and attention lavished upon him, grateful for 
 returning strength, for sunshine, fresh air, and 
 the brisk drive along the shores of the wind 
 ing Catamount, but Merriam was silent, smiled 
 but seldom, and laughed not at all. Merriam 
 was plainly troubled, and that night, when 
 Mrs. Tremaine asked her friend the doctor 
 how his patient enjoyed the drive, that gentle 
 man replied that if it did him good he gave 
 no sign. "I believe," said he "that Merri 
 am's in love, and that's why I cannot under-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 57 
 
 stand his eagerness to get back to his troop. 
 And the mother leaped with hope. Ske, too, 
 had had other plans for Florence than that she 
 should marry a subaltern officer; but if by 
 chance Floy had chosen for herself and fallen 
 in love with one, it could not have been with 
 out some persuasion, some pleading on his 
 part. It must be that he was the first to love 
 and to plainly show it. 
 
 That night Florence was very quiet. She 
 read aloud to her father, as was her custom, 
 and clung to him as he kissed her good-night. 
 Merriam had gone early to his room, as though 
 fatigued by the drive or rendered drowsy by 
 the unaccustomed motion in the air. Some 
 where about three in the morning there was 
 an unusual sound of voices in excited talk 
 near the guardhouse, and Tremaine awoke 
 and was dressing hurriedly, when rapid steps 
 came up the walk, and the sergeant of the 
 guard, with a dust-covered courier, stood at his 
 door. They bore a note from Whittaker. A 
 serious row had occurred between some of the 
 troop and a party of miners and prospectors 
 who had been camping near them for three
 
 58 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 days. Pistols were drawn, with the result that 
 one miner was killed, two troopers and one 
 prospector were seriously, perhaps mortally, 
 wounded, and several others were injured. 
 Could Dr. Wells come out to them at once for 
 a few hours, at least, and was Merriam able to 
 ride? The young prospector who was so seri 
 ously wounded had begged to see him, as he 
 had important information for him, and bade 
 them tell Mr. Merriam that his name was Mc- 
 Lane, a son of the man who was about to 
 marry Miss Hayward. A pencilled note in a 
 closed envelope accompanied the verbal mes 
 sage for Merriam. 
 
 Florence, listening at her half -open door as 
 the captain read Whittaker's dispatch aloud to 
 her mother, shrank back to her bedside, cov- 
 eder her face with her hands and sank to her 
 knees. It was thus she was found a few mo 
 ments later. Merriam, aroused by the un 
 accustomed sounds, had lighted his candle 
 and, partially dressed, came forth into the 
 broad hallway of the commanding officer's 
 quarters, and Tremaine met and gave him the 
 message an 4 the note, which latter Randy
 
 AN' ARMY WIFE. 5$ 
 
 tore open and read with staring eyes. For a 
 moment he stood confounded, then turned 
 sharply to Tremaine: "Now, sir, I've got to 
 go, and go at once when Wells does," then 
 turned and hurried to his room. 
 
 The captain himself aroused his post sur 
 geon, told him the news, and bade him see and 
 quiet Merriam as soon as possible. The dawn 
 was breaking and the rosy light was in the 
 eastern sky when the doctor reached his pa 
 tient, finding him fully dressed and rapidly 
 stowing in his saddle-bags the simple articles 
 of a soldier's toilet. 
 
 "This won't do, Randy. You're not fit to 
 stir," said he. But his determination oozed 
 when Merriam, with white face, turned and 
 said: 
 
 " More than my life's at stake here, doc 
 tor it's a woman's honor, and I'm going, live 
 or die."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 STRANGE to say, the journey back to the 
 Mescalero seemed to benefit rather than in 
 jure Merriam. The doctor vainly endeavored 
 to restrain him to induce him to shorten the 
 long days' marches, but Merriam declared he 
 was never so well as when in saddle, and that 
 nothing wearied him so much as waiting. If 
 anything, he seemed less jaded than his physi 
 cian when, on the third day, they reached the 
 bivouac of the little command, and Billy Whit- 
 taker welcomed them to a supper of bacon and 
 frijoles, and calmed Merriam 's feverish impa 
 tience by the news that the civilian who had 
 so desired to see him was still alive, conscious, 
 but sinking rather than gaining. The miners' 
 camp was a mile away. The dead had been 
 buried, and the feud dropped with the brief 
 prayers with which the bullet-riddled body 
 was consigned to earth. Wells' first duty lay 
 
 with the two troopers, who were in bitter 
 60
 
 Took the hint and slouched away.' 1
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 6 1 
 
 plight, and no morsel of food passed his lips 
 until he had ministered to them. Then Mer- 
 riam had to wait until he had swallowed some 
 coffee, and then, taking Whittaker with them, 
 they rode forward to a branch of the canon, 
 where at nightfall they came in view of the 
 fires of the little camp. Wells made prompt 
 examination of the wounded man, and came 
 out from the rude shelter under which he lay, 
 glanced at Whittaker and shook his head. 
 Presently, with a dazed look on his face, Mer- 
 riam reappeared. "Billy," said he, "stand 
 here and see that there are no eavesdroppers. 
 I know some of this poor fellow's people, 
 and he has messages to send." The two or 
 three hangers-on took the hint and slouched 
 away. " I may need you to witness his state 
 ment later," he whispered. "Come in if ] 
 call, but let no one else hear us." 
 
 For half an hour the low murmur of voicei 
 came from within the "shack," as darkness 
 settled down upon the scene. Then both 
 Wells and Whittaker were summoned, and by 
 the dim light of a camp lantern they knelt 
 beside the pallet of the dying man. " You
 
 6 2 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 know both these gentlemen, by reputation, at 
 least," said Merriam gently, though his eyes 
 were gleaming, his lips quivering, and his 
 hands trembling with some strong and strange 
 emotion. " In their presence I desire you- to 
 read over this statement that I have written 
 from your dictation. If it's entirely right say 
 so, sign it, and they will witness your signa 
 ture, but will have no knowledge of its con 
 tents." 
 
 For a few minutes hardly a sound save the 
 deep breathing of three powerful, soldierly 
 men and the feeble gasping of the sufferer 
 broke the stillness of the rude shelter. The 
 wounded man lay propped on Merriam's shoul 
 der, but, through weakness from his long ill 
 ness and the mental excitement of the moment, 
 the latter's trembling grew so marked that 
 Whittaker quickly slipped his left arm under 
 the drooping head and drew his friend away. 
 McLane seemed to gain strength from the 
 vigor of this new support, though he could do 
 no more than whisper thanks. Presently he 
 beckoned to Merriam and pointed to a line on 
 the page.
 
 AN- ARM Y WIFE. 63 
 
 " I said she was over forty-three " he be 
 gan, then Merriam's hand was slipped over 
 his mouth. 
 
 " I'll make any corrections you wish, but do 
 not speak of what is there," said he, and with 
 his fountain-pen he erased a word and wrote 
 another. Then the sufferer nodded. " It is 
 all right now," he whispered, and taking the 
 pen was lifted to a half-sitting posture and 
 feebly, scratchily wrote as follows: "John 
 Harold McLane, Jr., aged 25, born June ist, 
 1867, Sacramento, California. Died June , 
 1892, Mescalero Mountains, N. M." Then, 
 dropping the pen, he fell back to his rude pil 
 low, panting and exhausted. Wells quickly 
 gave him stimulant; then he and Whittaker 
 affixed their names as witnesses. A moment 
 later, while the surgeon remained with his 
 patient, the two young officers clasped hands 
 outside. 
 
 " You're weak as a child yet, Randy. What 
 is it, old boy?" 
 
 "My God! I can't afford to be weak now," 
 was the fierce answer. "I've got to act to 
 do as I never did before. How long should it
 
 64 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 take our best rider, our lightest rider, to reach 
 the railway. Telegrams must go East at 
 once." 
 
 "If he take the back trail the one you 
 came in by from Sedgwick five days and 
 nights, least count. If he go around by the 
 cantonment for fresh horses, perhaps seven." 
 
 " My God ! my God !" cried Merriam. " Even 
 two days may be too long. You're in com 
 mand, Billy. I can give no orders, but that 
 courier must start before moonrise to-night. 
 Don't ask me to tell you why." 
 
 And within the hour, with a sealed packet 
 addressed to Captain Lawrence Hayne, th 
 Infantry, Fort Sedgwick, a slim little Irish 
 trooper was loping, all alone, jauntily back 
 toward the valley of the Bravo, smacking his 
 lips in anticipation of the good liquor await 
 ing him at Santa Fe Junction the moment his 
 duty was done. Five days and nights had he 
 before him of lonely ride through a desolate, 
 almost desert land, stopping only when neces 
 sary to feed and water and rub down his 
 horse, build his little fire and cook his slab of 
 bacon and brew the battered pot of coffee,
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 65 
 
 and snatch such sleep under the stars as 
 was possible, braving Indians, rattlesnakes, or 
 mountain lions without a tremor for the sake 
 of an Irishman's pride in his troop, his love 
 of dangerous duty, and his full assurance of a 
 good time at the journey's end. 
 
 Another day and a rude grave was dug in 
 the canon, and the doctor read the simple ser 
 vice of the church over the shrouded form of 
 the young prospector ; and then, against that 
 doctor's wishes but not without his reluctant 
 consent, Lieutenant Merriam, with an escort 
 of two troopers, started in person to ride by 
 the shortest trail to Sedgwick. 
 
 It was now the 6th of June. It would take 
 him nearly a week to reach and cross the 
 Santa Clara. It might take him eight days to 
 Sedgwick, and every hour seemed a day. 
 Meantime Dr. Wells set about having litters 
 made for the two wounded troopers, and by 
 the tenth of the month had them safely in 
 hospital at the cantonment. He found Tre- 
 maine looking anxious, even angered, Mrs. 
 Tremaine troubled on more than one account, 
 apparently, and Florence pale and languid.
 
 66 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "Did Mr. Merriam send no letter?" asked 
 Mrs. Tremaine, after he had told something 
 of their experiences. 
 
 " There was no time to write. He begged 
 me to give you his love and gratitude, to give 
 it to all, and to say he would write in full the 
 moment he got to Sedgwick. Oh, yes, he is 
 better much better, but the nervous strain 
 may bring on a return of the fever," said the 
 doctor. Something of solemn consequence, 
 Wells knew not what, had carried Merriam 
 back to the railway. He might have to go 
 East at once. 
 
 But Randy never reached the railway. 
 Hayne received and read in startled amaze 
 the contents of the packet brought by the cou 
 rier, and sent at once from the Junction two 
 telegraphic messages : One to Mr. Ned Parry, 
 of the firm of Graeme, Rayburn & Parry, of 
 Chicago; the other to Mr. Abraham Mellen, 
 New York City; received from the latter 
 neither acknowledgment nor reply, and from 
 the former the brief words: "The marriage 
 took place forty-eight hours ago." 
 
 Without any delay, taking only a single
 
 AN ARMY IVIFE. 67 
 
 orderly, Captain Hayne rode away north 
 westward, past the Santa Clara, past the old 
 Mission, and so mountainward until the blue 
 barrier of the Mescalero turned to gray and 
 green, and, almost within its shadows, just as 
 the second setting sun drooped behind its 
 massive crest, he met the trio from the Cata 
 mount Merriam, a haggard, but determined 
 rider, far in the lead. There was no time for 
 salutation. 
 
 "What answer?" demanded the lieutenant 
 abruptly and with wide, burning, bloodshot 
 eyes. 
 
 "Too late," said Hayne, "too late by forty- 
 eight hours." 
 
 "You don't mean," gasped Merriam, "that 
 they are married already?" 
 
 "That's what Parry wires," was the brief 
 response. " Here's the dispatch." 
 
 For a moment Merriam sat in saddle, a 
 dazed, stupefied look in his bloodless face. 
 Then his eyes closed and he seemed about to 
 swoon. Hayne sprang from his panting horse 
 just as Merriam 's wearied escorts came lum 
 bering to the spot. Together they lifted him
 
 68 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 from his seat and bore him to a little patch of 
 grass, bathed his temples from their can 
 teens and gave him a goutte of cognac. They 
 made what frontier troops call a " dry camp" 
 that night, just there where the two parties 
 met. There was fuel, a little grass, but no 
 water beyond what they had in their canteens, 
 and with the contents of one of these Hayne 
 brewed a pot of tea while one of the men 
 cooked their frugal supper. They needed no 
 other canopy than that of the heavens in that 
 rare, dry atmosphere, and with the stars for 
 night lights and the waning moon to peep in 
 upon their slumbers later and start the gaunt 
 coyotes at their querulous, unregarded sere 
 nade, the troopers slept, or seemed to sleep, 
 until dawn. Twice Hayne awoke to find Mer- 
 riam staring with burning eyes at the radiant 
 vault aloft, but he wanted nothing, needed 
 nothing. He could not sleep for thinking, he 
 explained, and when the morning came the 
 fever was with him again, and Corporal Tracy 
 galloped northward along the foothills, a long 
 day's ride, to fetch once more the doctor from 
 the cantonment, and with Wells came the am-
 
 Bathed his temples from their canteens"
 
 AM ARMY WIFE. 69 
 
 bulance. The cantonment lay fifty miles away 
 to the north, Sedgwick a hundred to the south 
 east. It was the nearest port in the storm. 
 
 This time Tremaine would have had fitted 
 up for him a room in the big, airy hospital, 
 but his better-half intervened. 
 
 " It would never do after our having had 
 him here before," she said. "He must have 
 his old room under our roof and everything 
 he had before except Florence." 
 
 But when, after ten days of burning fever 
 and desperate illness, Randolph Merriatn 
 seemed again to realize where he was, and 
 how weak he was, and how good they had 
 been to him, the first name he whispered, the 
 first thing he asked for, looked for, seemed to 
 long for was Florence and they let her come.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IT was October before the surveyors finished 
 their work in the Mescalero Mountains and 
 Merriam and his men were recalled to Sedg- 
 wick. Late in July Billy Whittaker had been 
 relieved by his restored comrade, and returned 
 to headquarters; he lost no time in calling 
 on the Haynes, and between him and that 
 charming little army matron, Mrs. Hayne, 
 there were exchanged significant smiles and 
 knowing looks, and not a few confidential 
 words, to all of which the blond, Norse-look 
 ing captain and husband seemed to give 
 hearty approval. And letters from the can 
 tonment long letters came to Mrs. Hayne 
 from her friend Mrs. Tremaine, and long, 
 loving, blissful missives from Florence, and 
 when the Haynes, father and mother, boys 
 and girls, all presently went in to Chicago for 
 a month at the fair, it leaked out in some way 
 
 that Mrs. Hayne left freighted with mysterj- 
 70
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 71 
 
 cms commissions from her friends at the Cata 
 mount, Tremaine's reverses permitting no such 
 extravagance as a journey especially in view 
 of the many new and lovely items that women 
 decreed as indispensable now. And presently 
 it was known at Sedgwick that, despite his 
 complete recovery, Mr. Merriam seemed to 
 find it necessary to leave the detachment in 
 the mountains and make frequent, even haz 
 ardous rides, with only a single orderly, down 
 deep into the canon of the Catamount, and so 
 on back to Wells and the cantonment. Long 
 before the Haynes returned from Chicago, 
 therefore, the sweet secret was out, and all 
 Fort Sedgwick was talking of Merriam 's en 
 gagement to Floy Tremaine. She was but 
 eighteen ; he twenty-eight. She was shy, sen 
 sitive, an idolized daughter. There were times 
 when she was actually lovely, so deep and ten 
 der were her eyes, so winning her smile, soft 
 and caressing her voice. He was stalwart, 
 soldierly, fine-looking certainly, but a man 
 few heartily liked, while few thoroughly knew 
 him. He had been wild, extravagant, and 
 some said dissipated the first two or three
 
 7* AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 years after his graduation. He was known to 
 be frank and truthful, and as a giver and 
 lender had been decidedly too generous. He 
 was a conscientious officer in many ways, ex 
 cept when he was serving under Buxton. He 
 couldn't bear " Bux," and Bux not infrequently 
 spoke disparagingly of Merriam's ability, a 
 thing that might have hurt him in the eyes of 
 his superiors but for the fact that they knew 
 Bux far better than he knew them. Among 
 officers of his own grade there were none 
 whose opinion was worth having who really 
 disliked Merriam, but very few who felt them 
 selves sufficiently intimate with him to actively 
 like. They had nothing against him, except 
 a certain indifference of manner, and nothing 
 that called for enthusiastic praise. His con 
 duct in returning to his regiment from an 
 expensive Eastern station, and putting him 
 self en retraite until his debts should be lifted 
 and his duns appeased, met with general com 
 mendation. His course in taking the Mesca- 
 lero detail off a brother officer's hands was 
 held to be characteristically generous. He 
 had lots of good points, had Merriam, they all
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 73 
 
 conceded, but there were not four people, offi 
 cers or ladies, in either the cavalry or the 
 Riflers who thought him good enough for 
 Florence Tremaine. 
 
 "Wish her joy? Aye, with all my heart," 
 said the old colonel, when the news of the 
 engagement was brought to him, "but can we 
 hope it?" Even Captain Hayne was not sure, 
 though he tried to be, and found comfort and 
 inspiration in the enthusiasm of his devoted 
 wife and in the stanch opinions of Billy Whit- 
 taker. These two were the two at Sedgwick 
 to whom that engagement brought gladness 
 without alloy, and since there were not four 
 people in the combined commands who could 
 thoroughly approve the match, it follows that 
 at most, therefore, there could be only one 
 more, but that one was the most confident, 
 the most enthusiastic, the happiest, the glad 
 dest, the proudest, the fondest girl that ever 
 lived Florence, her own sweet self. In a 
 passion of tears, one exquisite, moonlit even 
 ing late in June, she had thrown herself upon 
 her knees by her mother's side and sobbed 
 out the news that Mcrriam had told her he
 
 74 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 loved her dearly and had asked hor to be his 
 wife, and when the mother drew her to her 
 bosom and held her there, and mingled her 
 tears with those of her beloved child, her heart 
 went up in prayer to heaven, for she knew 
 that which Tremaine could not understand, 
 that so deep, so fond, so all-possessing was the 
 love with which Florence would love, prob 
 ably did love, that there could be no listening 
 to reason. She had pinned her faith on Ran 
 dolph Merriam and it could not be shaken. 
 
 But neither wife nor daughter knew that 
 night that, earlier in the evening, Merriam 
 had sought the husband and father and opened 
 his heart to him, told him his whole story, and 
 begged of him his consent and blessing. " I 
 did love Miss Hay ward," he said ; " I was fasci 
 nated beyond expression and was stunned by 
 the abrupt end of our engagement, but all that 
 passion was killed by the details that have 
 reached me, and in its place have grown up 
 an admiration and love for your daughter that 
 far. exceed anything I have known before. I 
 have had hard lessons, sir; I am not worthy 
 the love of one so pure and true as she, but it
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 75 
 
 shall be my constant endeavor to make her 
 happy." 
 
 Tremaine could not answer for a moment. 
 "What have you told her, thus far?" he asked, 
 though not unkindly. 
 
 " I told her before I was summoned back to 
 the detachment, after that shooting scrape up 
 in the mountains, about Miss Hayward and 
 my broken engagement, and her prospective 
 marriage. I do not think I had any business 
 to do even that to tell her anything that 
 might seem to single her out as confidant, but 
 the impulse was stronger than I was." 
 
 " Was that the day before the courier came 
 down with the news of the fight?" asked the 
 captain, with uplifted brows. He was think 
 ing of how Florence had been found by her 
 mother in tears that very afternoon. 
 
 "Very possibly, sir, though I cannot recall 
 the day." 
 
 Then after a pause: "Answer me this 
 question, Merriam," said the older officer. 
 " If Miss Hayward were to treat this man as 
 she did you; if she were again to come into 
 your life and say, 'Come back to me,' I do not
 
 76 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 ask you what your answer would be I ask, 
 what would your heart say?" 
 
 " Nothing. Even if she were not his wife, 
 I could not think of her again without aver 
 sion." 
 
 " Yet she is accomplished and a beauty, you 
 say ; which my Florence, they tell me, though 
 I cannot see it, is not." 
 
 "She is accomplished too much so. She 
 is a beautiful woman, but I look in your daugh 
 ter's eyes, sir, and I see her as you see her. 
 God knows I marvel that any one can fail to 
 see her except as you do and as I do." 
 
 And Tremaine held out his hand, gripped 
 hard the lean, brown fingers that clasped in 
 his, essayed to say something that was still 
 weighing on his heart, but gave it up. 
 
 "She is all I have to give, Merriam," he 
 presently said, "but she is all the world to 
 me." 
 
 And so when Merriam returned to Sedg- 
 wick to face the volleys of congratulation and 
 the occasional shakes of the head with which 
 his seniors said to him, "She's a heap too 
 good for you, man," he could not but be aware
 
 hand on his arm"
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 77 
 
 of the trend of public sentiment, and though 
 time and again he had said as much to her, to 
 her parents, to himself, it must be owned that 
 here was a case where it was not entirely flat 
 tering to find the world of his own expressed 
 opinion. It nettled him not a little, and even 
 Whittaker and Mrs. Hayne could not entirely 
 comfort him. It was all very well to say, 
 "You must remember that Florence has been 
 the pet of our regiment ever since she was 
 born. I declare it makes me jealous at times 
 for my own babies," as Mrs. Hayne did. It 
 was gratifying and complimentary to his taste 
 that the commendation of his gentle fiancee 
 was so general, but, no matter how conscious 
 a man may be of his own shortcomings, is it 
 ever a comfort to find that all his friends are 
 equally aware of them? It must be owned 
 that there were moments when Merriam grew 
 impatient of these comments upon his un- 
 worthiness, expressed or implied, even while 
 his heart rejoiced over the enthusiastic inter 
 est displayed by all the garrison in his wife 
 that was to be. 
 
 And he was a very devoted lover, too.
 
 78 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Only twice a week did the mail rider go out to 
 the cantonment, but Randy wrote to her long, 
 crowded pages every day, and her letters 
 came even longer and brimful of love and 
 sunshine and happiness. He had sent to St. 
 Louis for her engagement ring, and her de 
 light over it and its beauty was something 
 delicious to see, though she properly rebuked 
 him for his extravagance and warned him 
 never again to spend so much money in jew- 
 'elry for her while he was yet a poor lieuten 
 ant. By and by, when he became a great 
 general, as surely he must, then it might be 
 permissible, but no matter how great or dis 
 tinguished he might become, never could she 
 be prouder of him or of his love than now, 
 never, never! 
 
 As the late autumn wore on it was arranged 
 that the wedding should take place at Sedg- 
 wick, and both Riflers and troopers, the th 
 Foot and the th Horse, were to give the 
 happy couple a glorious send-off. Both bride 
 and groom elect had seen much of the East 
 and South within the ten years preceding this 
 of '92, and Merriam suggested Southern Cali-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 79 
 
 fornia, Coronado Beach, Santa Barbara, and 
 Monterey for their honeymoon trip. Florence 
 would have gone without question had he said 
 Kamchatka or Timbuctoo. Once twice dur 
 ing the autumn long letters had reached him 
 from Ned Parry letters over which he pon 
 dered long and gravely. Mrs. and Mr. Mc- 
 Lane, said the second letter, were once more 
 in Gotham, the vortex of a gay circle, but 
 Mrs. Parry had declined to go East again. 
 He himself had not cared to go, and did not 
 call upon the happy couple or upon their re 
 vered uncle when, as it happened, he did have 
 to go. " Mr. Mellen has never written me 
 since my letter to him telling him why I could 
 not attend the wedding," wrote Parry. "Yet 
 he and I have got to have an accounting, and 
 in the near future, too. But first, my boy, I 
 must look up that California story and we are 
 to meet. It may be weeks yet before I can 
 get away, but when I do, I'll wire. If possible 
 get a brief furlough and join me. I'll come 
 by way of Sedgwick, and Charlotte will not 
 be with us." 
 
 And though Merriam soon answered that
 
 8o AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 letter, he made no mention of his engagement. 
 Cards in due form were issued in January just 
 a fortnight before the ceremony, and that was 
 Parry's first intimation of "the impending 
 crisis." Charlotte was astonished. Both were 
 rejoiced on one account, yet both wished, for 
 the girl's sake again, that he had not been so 
 precipitate. Each believed that the old love 
 still smouldered and could be fanned into 
 flame. They sent a beautiful gift to the bride 
 some rare cut-glass pieces over which Flor-. 
 ence almost cried with delight, and for the 
 first time in long weeks Charlotte Parry wrote 
 to her fair sister in Gotham, and told her of 
 Mr. Merriam's engagement to such a charm 
 ing girl, the only daughter of a distinguished 
 officer, the pride and beauty of the regiment, 
 the toast of all the cavalry, and other elabora 
 tions, some of which, it must be owned, Mrs. 
 Parry coined, but most of them she compiled 
 and evolved from the letter Merriam wrote to 
 her two days after he had posted the cards. 
 
 The wedding was lovely, as army weddings 
 usually are. The day was perfect, the music 
 grand, the assemblage all that could be de-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 8l 
 
 sired; the ceremony, despite the mist of tears 
 in many eyes and Tremaine's manifest emo 
 tion, had gone off without a jar. The recep 
 tion at the Haynes' was simply perfect, as 
 everybody said, and then, though it was a 
 manifest " give-away" of the young couple, and 
 probably very bad form indeed, dozens of men 
 and women had ridden to the junction to meet 
 the west-bound train and see them off; and 
 hardly had their fond faces faded in the dis 
 tance than another, a very different one, a 
 radiant, smiling, beautiful face, was unveiled 
 to the startled vision of the bride, and the 
 woman who was said to have wrecked Ran 
 dolph Merriam's life a few months gone by 
 was there in most bewitching guise, despite 
 the dust and grime of railway travel, to over 
 whelm her with pretty speeches and charming 
 
 compliments and complete dismay. 
 6
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MERRIAM'S intention had been to go direct 
 to San Diego. Leaving the ladies together, 
 after a cold and embarrassed acknowledgment 
 of Mrs. McLane's greeting and a most unwill 
 ing presentation to "my wife," he hurried into 
 another car to be alone and collect his thoughts. 
 It was sundown by this time, and only sun 
 down. For hours yet poor Florence might be 
 at the mercy of that merciless woman, who 
 Merriam now believed could be capable of 
 anything. The thought was unbearable. 
 From the conductor he learned that the Mc- 
 Lanes were bound for Coronado Beach, and 
 that settled it. Hastily writing a few lines 
 he folded the paper compactly and walked 
 briskly back to the Pullman. Both faces 
 lighted at his coming, Floy's with infinite 
 relief, Fanny's with laughing triumph. " Not 
 
 another moment's leave, sir," cried the latter, 
 
 82
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 83 
 
 "until you've explained where you've been 
 and promised never again to abandon your 
 beloved. Fancy a man who would leave his 
 bride within an hour of their wedding to go 
 and smoke among strangers! Oh, that re 
 minds me, I haven't presented you to Mr. 
 McLane. Will you come with me now?" 
 
 Cold refusal was on his tongue, but a sud 
 den thought struck him. " Lead on, madame 
 I follow," he said, and as she tripped blithe 
 ly away down the aisle he quickly turned 
 back, bent, and printing one long kiss on 
 Floy's troubled face, hurriedly whispered: 
 "Read this, darling. I'll be with you in one 
 moment, and then she cannot remain." Then 
 calmly and deliberately he followed. Mrs. 
 McLane had halted at the angle of the narrow 
 passage around the smoking compartment, 
 and was awaiting him there. Seeing this he 
 stopped short at the portiere, in full view of 
 Florence had she looked around, and bowing, 
 motioned her to proceed. But she had halted 
 for a purpose and meant to have her say. 
 Who was it that declared that even at the 
 altar, in her wedding dress, a woman could
 
 84 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 not forgive the rejected lover who had found 
 consolation elsewhere? 
 
 "You are to be congratulated on the elas 
 ticity with which you recover from even severe 
 attacks, Mr. Merriam. ~Yom fever was said to 
 be such." 
 
 " I have been fortunate in two recoveries, 
 Mrs. McLane," was the cool response. "Now 
 if you are ready to present me to Mr. McLane, 
 I am at your service ; if not, I desire to return 
 to my wife." 
 
 The flush that leaped to her face, the angry 
 light to her eyes she could neither conceal nor 
 control. For a moment she stood there amazed, 
 enraged, and trembling, then these words burst 
 from her lips: " I thought I loved you, Randy 
 Merriam not two months ago yes, despite 
 everything! Now I hate you!" And with 
 this melodramatic speech she impetuously 
 and abruptly turned, and for the second time 
 took refuge, dust or no dust, at the rear door 
 way, the presentation to her husband appar 
 ently forgotten. For a proper and reasonable 
 minute he awaited her return, then, quickly 
 stepping back, seated himself by his young
 
 ' ffis hand sought out and found hers.''
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 85 
 
 wife's side. His hand sought and found hers; 
 his fond eyes, eagerly searching, were not long 
 denied the upward, appealing glance of hers. 
 " Did you read? Do you approve, dear love?" 
 he softly asked. " It would be exasperation to 
 have to travel on with them. Shall I wire to 
 Stonetnan?" 
 
 "Whatever you say, Randy," was the whis 
 pered answer. "Only you won't have to 
 leave me again, will you?" 
 
 " Only for an instant, dear, just long enough 
 to send the dispatch from Fauntleroy one 
 station ahead. She will not trouble you 
 again." 
 
 And from Fauntleroy a brief telegram was 
 flashed along the wires to the post quarter 
 master at a famous old Arizona station, two 
 hours' ride beyond, and when the brilliantly 
 lighted train came steaming up to the plat 
 form there stood a brace of officers with wel 
 come in their eyes; and before Mrs. McLane, 
 once again seated in her section and feigning 
 deep interest in her book, could realize what 
 had happened, Mr. and Mrs. Merriam were 
 leaving the car, he merely raising his hat in
 
 86 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 civil farewell, the bride, however, as the re 
 sult of brief conference with her lord, smiling 
 bravely down into the upturned face of their 
 startled neighbor and saying, " I hope you 
 may have a delightful journey, Mrs. McLane. 
 Good-night." 
 
 " Why I thought surely you told me you 
 were going to direct to San Diego, and I had 
 planned to have ever so long a talk with you," 
 and Mrs. McLane had possessed herself of 
 that slender hand, and was hanging on sus 
 piciously hard. 
 
 "Yes, we'll be there after a little," was the 
 serene answer. " We visit old friends first at 
 Fort Stoneman," and with that our army girl 
 withdrew the hand which hypocritical social 
 ethics prescribed she should extend. She had 
 even the hardihood to glance over her stylishly 
 robed shoulder and nod a cheery, insouciant 
 farewell to the fair yet clouded face at the 
 Pullman window. Verily Floy's elasticity was 
 equal to her husband's. 
 
 Mr. McLane they had not met at all, nor 
 did they again, on that now unclouded wed 
 ding journey, once encounter her. It was
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 8? 
 
 easy to trace the wanderings of this Manhat 
 tan magnate and his lovely wife. Their 
 movements were the subject of daily para 
 graphs in the papers from San Diego to Se 
 attle, and not until they had left Coronado 
 Beach did the Merriams go thither. Not until 
 the McLanes were heralded at the Palace in 
 San Francisco did the happy couple move on 
 to Monterey, and there one morning as they 
 were at breakfast the papers were brought in, 
 and there was sensation. Merriam had not 
 yet begun to appear at table with that infalli 
 ble symptom of the long-married couple a 
 newspaper for his own entertainment and si 
 lence for his wife, and he and she were glanc 
 ing about the great apartment and exchanging 
 happy, low-toned confidences about their sur 
 roundings and possibly their fellow-sojourners. 
 A man at an adjoining table, however, had 
 opened the sheet and suddenly exclaimed, 
 "My God!" and this instantly attracted the 
 attention of his wife, who had resignedly ac 
 cepted the situation and was rinding such con 
 solation as she could in studying the occupants 
 of the room. He began to read aloud: "Mr.
 
 88 A AT ARMY WIF. 
 
 John Harold McLane, of New York, who with 
 his charming young wife has been spending a 
 few days in this city, was shot and danger 
 ously wounded while stepping into his carriage 
 in front of the University Club at a late hour 
 last night, his unknown assailant escaping in 
 the confusion that followed. The ball, evi 
 dently a heavy one, struck him with such force 
 that the shock felled him instantly. He was 
 carried into the club house again, where Drs. 
 Storr and Humphrey, who were present, made 
 prompt examination. It was found that after 
 striking full force and partially destroying the 
 contents of a flat pocket-book in his overcoat, 
 the ball, deflected evidently, had torn its way 
 round under the skin of the left breast and 
 burst its way out below the armpit. Bleeding 
 was profuse and the shock severe, yet the phy 
 sicians think that the chances are in favor of 
 his recovery. 
 
 "There is much mystery about the affair. 
 The coachman says a man and a woman walked 
 up and down in front of the club on the oppo 
 site side of the street full half an hour before 
 Mr. McLane came out, he being accompanied
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 89 
 
 by a friend who had formed one of their party 
 at whist. Instantly the strange man left the 
 side of the woman, hurried across the street, 
 and, placing his left hand on Mr. McLane's 
 shoulder, turned him sharply and accosted him 
 in low, somewhat angry tone. The moment 
 he spoke Mr. McLane struck furiously with 
 his right hand at the other's face, then thrust 
 it into his overcoat pocket, where later a pistol 
 was found. It was at this instant that the 
 other fired. The carriage horses, startled, at 
 tempted to run, and by the time the coachman 
 had regained control of them they were some 
 distance down the street. On his return, Mr. 
 McLane was being borne into the club. Quite 
 a little crowd had gathered, but nobody but 
 himself and the friend referred to, who was 
 somewhat intoxicated, had seen anything of 
 the shooting. A neighbor said he saw a man 
 and woman hurry round the corner, but that 
 was the last of them. The police have a clue 
 which they refuse to divulge. Mrs. McLane, 
 who was attending the brilliant reception given, 
 at the residence of the Hon. J. L. Sanbourne, 
 was not informed of the tragedy until an hour
 
 90 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 later, and was prostrated by the shock. At 
 3 A.M. the wounded man was resting under the 
 influence of opiates." 
 
 Breathless, Merriam listened, his face pal 
 ing, and breathless Florence watched him. 
 When the reader had finished and his wife 
 began to ask questions, Florence said no word. 
 Her dark, pathetic eyes were fixed upon her 
 husband's pallid face, then timidly she stretched 
 forth her hand. "Randy, dear!" she whis 
 pered. 
 
 Merriam roused himself with a sudden start. 
 " Forgive me, Floy darling ! But this is a 
 dreadful shock. Will you mind my getting a 
 paper?" and he looked appealingly about him. 
 A waiter sprang forward. Did the captain 
 wish anything? The morning paper. Cer 
 tainly. Which one? Oh, any one all of 
 them in fact ; and presently they were brought, 
 as was the breakfast, and the breakfast grew 
 cold while he read on through paper after 
 paper, grewsome details in one and all, yet 
 not the details he sought. 
 
 And Florence had lost all appetite and was 
 intent only on him, waiting almost meekly for
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 91 
 
 him to speak. Some of the papers declared 
 the injuries mortal. Randy passed the papers 
 one after another without comment to her, as 
 he read them. She took each as it came, obe 
 diently, helpfully, but folded and laid it by 
 her side, then returned to her wordless study 
 of his troubled face. At last the fourth sheet 
 was finished, and with a long sigh he turned 
 and saw her. "My darling! my darling!" he 
 whispered, a great shame and sorrow over 
 powering him as he noted the intensity of her 
 sympathy mingling with the mournful sense 
 of her utter nothingness to him at the mo 
 ment. "Oh, Florence, how could I be so for 
 getful of you? But I have had a dreadful 
 shock. You do not know what this means, 
 what it would mean if McLane should die 
 now and I cannot tell you." 
 
 And all she said was " Hush ! Randy, dear, 
 I don't wish you to tell me now." 
 
 But McLane did not die at once, at least. 
 Three weeks the police worked at that clue 
 and the doctors at him, and neither with much 
 success certainly with little help from the 
 victim, who was in woful state of collapse
 
 92 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 much of the time, protesting ignorance of any 
 excuse for shooting on the part of anybody, and 
 consumed with dreadful fear of death. It was 
 a wonder that under the circumstances he ral 
 lied sufficiently to be up and able to be moved. 
 The March winds of 'Frisco were leagued 
 against him. The doctors wished to take him 
 back to Coronado, but he declared that any 
 part of California would be death to him. He 
 wished to go home at once. Within the week 
 of the shooting Ned Parry arrived from Chi 
 cago, and had some long interviews with his 
 sister-in-law, but was not allowed to see the 
 patient ; neither was she except at rare, inter 
 vals, an affliction which she bore with Chris 
 tian resignation. Then Parry had to go back, 
 but not before he had received a note from 
 Merriam, had visited him, and had shown every 
 attention to and deep interest in his gentle 
 bride, and had had one long conference with 
 the husband, alone. 
 
 When Mr. McLane was declared well enough 
 to move they carried him aboard a steamer and 
 sent him to Panama, Fanny, his wife, in at 
 tendance, as in duty bound. But even the
 
 1 A mi her hours were mainly spent on deck.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 93 
 
 best and biggest stateroom was close and 
 stuffy, as she said, and her hours were mainly 
 spent on deck. It was the nurse who had to 
 bear with Mac's ceaseless plaints. He had 
 grown suddenly old, childish, decrepit, fear 
 ful. They had to stay some days at Panama, 
 and had a wretched time, at least he did, being 
 transferred thence to Havana, where he was 
 enjoined to remain at least six weeks. But 
 some morbid longing drew him irresistibly 
 back to New York. Go he would, and in 
 April they exchanged the summer seas, the 
 soft, perfume-laden air, the warm sunshine of 
 the tropics for the fogs and bluster of the 
 North Atlantic seaboard. Pneumonia set in 
 and claimed the feeble wreck for its own. 
 Several weeks before the anniversary of that 
 brilliant wedding and still more brilliant re 
 ception, Fanny McLane was weeping decor 
 ously in widow's weeds and listening to the 
 details of the last will and testament. 
 
 Much, but not all, had been left to his be 
 loved wife, Frances Hay ward McLane, but 
 even that much was curiously bestowed. Why 
 should Uncle Mellen be so largely a bene-.
 
 94 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 ficiary? Why should he be placed in charge 
 of her property? Was she not old enough to 
 look after what was her own? Why should 
 Uncle Mellen here and Uncle Mellen there 
 appear on page after page of that formidable 
 document? With alarming suddenness the 
 tears had vanished, dried off, presumably, by 
 the hot flush on her lovely cheek. Some one 
 had obtained undue influence over her hus 
 band in his last moments, she declared. Some 
 one had swindled her. Some one should be 
 given to understand she was a child a pup 
 pet no longer, and two some ones, Uncle and 
 Aunt Mellen, had a tremendous scene with 
 the widow before the funeral baked-meats 
 were fairly cold before the flowers began to 
 droop about the new-filled grave. One row led 
 to another, and then to litigation, and then 
 sister Charlotte had relented, sister love and 
 tenderness triumphing over the sense of indig 
 nation which followed Fan's repeated neglects 
 of sisterly letters and sisterly advice, and she 
 came East with her imperturbable Ned, and 
 found Fan looking white and ill and troubled, 
 and while Ned remained for a legal battle
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 95 
 
 royal with the girl's putative guardian, Char 
 lotte took Frances to a charming resort in the 
 West for a placid summer, and that fall the 
 lovely widow was domiciled in an apartment 
 of her own within view of the flashing waves 
 of Lake Michigan, within sound of the cease 
 less roar of Chicago. 
 
 Meantime the junior member of the great 
 firm of Graeme, Rayburn & Parry had been 
 doing yeoman service in " pinching" Uncle Mel- 
 len, and many a valuable concession had been 
 made, and, thanks to her gifted brother-in-law, 
 the fair and now fully restored widow found 
 herself in apparently undisputed possession of 
 the revenues of certain houses, lots and lands, 
 stocks and bonds that would have been beyond 
 her claim ; and now had come the longing to 
 spread her wings and fly, for with indepen 
 dence came the intolerance of Charlotte's well- 
 meant, yet ill-advised monitions. She would 
 have no elder sister preaching " Don't do this 
 and don't do that," day after day to her. She 
 could not assume at all times the expression 
 of a grief she did not feel. The weeds, "the 
 customary suits of solemn black," even the
 
 g6 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 little caps were donned whenever she went 
 abroad, but that cap was so coquettish as to 
 draw down Lot's denunciation, and even deep 
 mourning was to be discarded long before the 
 prescribed twelvemonth. 
 
 Freak, whim, caprice of every kind had her 
 elder sister expected of her, even to the 
 encouragement of this well-groomed, well- 
 preserved broker-magnate who came on plea 
 of new investments and business interests, but 
 that Frances should declare her intention of 
 going to visit Fort Sedgwick, even under the 
 protection of the Graftons' roof, had never oc 
 curred to her for a moment as a possibility. 
 It was stunning ! It was too dreadful for any 
 thing! She would have written mad, sisterly 
 protest to Mrs. Graf ton, but for Ned's stern 
 prohibition. '* Let her go, my child," said he, 
 in the half-paternal way he sometimes as 
 sumed. "Let her go. I know Grafton, I 
 think. I know Mrs. Merriam, and I believe 
 I know Randy. It's my profound conviction 
 Fan is going to get the lesson of her life,"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE manner in which Mrs. Frances McLane 
 secured her invitation to visit the Graftons re 
 flects credit on her generalship if not on her 
 general character. She was deep in widow's 
 weeds and woe the lovely summer of '94 so 
 long as she remained in the neighborhood of 
 the mausoleum of the dear departed, and Mrs. 
 Grafton twice or thrice ran down from the 
 Point to pour out sympathy and consolation, 
 but dear Fanny had sustained too severe a 
 shock. This dreadful, this mysterious, this 
 murderous assault upon Mr. McLane had un 
 nerved her completely, said Mrs. Grafton, on 
 her return to her liege, and she does not seem 
 to rally at all. Later, as we have seen, Char 
 lotte took her sister West, and later still the 
 Graftons, en route to Sedgwick at last, stopped 
 five days in Chicago on their way, and Fanny 
 was at the station to meet them on their ar 
 rival, and insisted then, as she had before by 
 7 97
 
 98 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 letter, upon their being her guests at her own 
 apartments at the Clarendon. She had a 
 lovely little room all ready for them. Now 
 Graf ton was a provident man, an economical 
 man, and five days' hotel bills made certainly 
 a big hole in a month's pay. Something even 
 then whispered to him that this extravagance 
 were better than that to which acceptance of 
 the widow's invitation would lead. But he 
 banished the thought as unworthy and unchar 
 itable. Fanny welcomed them with infinite 
 tact and taste made them feel that their 
 coming was a blessing to her, so sad and 
 lonely was her life now that it was no longer 
 blessed by the companionship and devotion of 
 the incomparable husband whom she had lost. 
 She could not accompany them to the opera or 
 to concerts and theatres, but she had the best 
 seats secured, and Ned and Charlotte were 
 properly attentive ; and when it was time for 
 the Graftons to move on the ladies actually 
 parted with tears, Fanny looking so white, so 
 pathetic, so fragile, and protesting that Mrs. 
 Grafton was the one friend to whom her heart 
 clung in its bereavement and desolation. A
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. $9 
 
 hacking little cough had already set in (this 
 was late in the fall), and the rigors of the 
 Lake Michigan climate seemed telling severely 
 upon the Gotham-born girl, and urgently did 
 Mrs. Grafton press her to leave this blustering 
 shore and to come to her in that land where 
 coughs and bronchial and catarrhal troubles 
 are unknown, to bask in the sunshine and 
 drink in the delicious air of southern New 
 Mexico; and Fan declared that could she but 
 be with Harriet her cough would never worry 
 her, but it could not be it could not be! 
 There were important legal matters to be set 
 tled. She must fight her battle alone. She 
 could not yet go so far from that sacred dust. 
 
 All the same the Graftons were not fairly 
 settled at Sedgwick when Fan's legal difficul 
 ties seemed to have been settled and her cough 
 grievously augmented. The doctors talked of 
 Bermuda or San Diego, but the idea of going 
 to Bermuda, among strangers, was a horror, 
 so she wrote ; and as for Coronado where, less 
 than a year agone, she had been so happy, so 
 blest? no! no! it was impossible! Yet Chi 
 cago for the rest of the winter was out of the
 
 loo A 2V ARMY WIFE. 
 
 question, especially since the estrangement 
 that had grown up between her and her rela 
 tives in the East, that had even to some ex 
 tent involved Charlotte, her beloved sister. 
 Mrs. Grafton could not help thinking how 
 remarkably Frances had developed since their 
 school-days. Then she had never impressed 
 any one as being capable of much deep feeling. 
 There had been a few months indeed when 
 Mrs. Grafton was angry and astonished at 
 Frances, but those were just after she " broke" 
 with Randy Merriam and married McLane, 
 but Fan had wheedled her out of this unfavor 
 able mood and convinced her that she had 
 never really cared for Mr. Merriam, who, 
 somehow, failed to inspire her with that feel 
 ing of respect, even reverence, which she felt 
 was due the man she married; whereas Mr. 
 McLane was a gentleman of such dignity and 
 force of character that she seemed powerless 
 in his presence, and his love was the sweetest 
 flattery, the most surprising, thrilling joy she 
 had ever known. Not until he came did she 
 dream what love really meant, and then it was 
 duty, it was justice, it was honor that com-
 
 Billy }yiiittak<:r.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. IOI 
 
 pelled her to release Mr. Merriam. Had she 
 married him she would have gone to the altar 
 with a lie on her lips, for she loved another. 
 Grafton said nothing, but seemed to be think 
 ing a good deal, and it was plain that he did 
 not thoroughly approve of the fickle Frances. 
 When, however, Merriam surprised every 
 body at the Point by his marriage to Floy 
 Tremaine, Grafton concluded it time to drop 
 the matter. 
 
 All the same he could not suppress his sur 
 prise when Harriet announced that Fanny had 
 actually almost consented to come to them. 
 " I thought you knew I disapproved of that 
 scheme entirely," said he. 
 
 " You did, dear, when I first spoke of it, and 
 so did I. I didn't think it would do at all, but 
 Fan talked so frankly about Mr. Merriam and 
 the lovely time they'd had together on the 
 Pacific coast, with him and his charming 
 bride, and how he and she had laughed over 
 their affair at the Point and agreed that it 
 would have been absurd, and now they were 
 such good friends, and she'd had such a sweet, 
 sympathetic message from Mrs. Merriam after
 
 102 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 her sad, sad bereavement why, what more 
 was to be said." 
 
 Grafton listened rather grimly. He was 
 many years older than his wife, as has been 
 said, and much less credulous. Again the 
 same uneasy presentiment oppressed him. " I 
 don't think she should come here, Harrie," he 
 gravely said. "Anywhere else, perhaps, I 
 could have shared with you the feeling of wel 
 come certainly the desire to pay the debt of 
 hospitality, but at Sedgwick, with the Mer- 
 riams here, it cannot be." 
 
 And here poor Mrs. Grafton broke down 
 and wept. "Oh," she cried, "it's got to be! 
 I thought you'd forgiven her and that all was 
 well; and I urged and she's coming ne 
 ne next w week." 
 
 We need not record the further remarks of 
 Captain Grafton on this point, since they were 
 after all inoperative, but the first dark shadow 
 over their domestic peace fell that very day 
 and hour. For the life of him he could not 
 but feel that he had been tricked and deceived, 
 and yet so plausible were the explanations he 
 could not brush them entirely aside. At all
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 103 
 
 events he would not now require his wife to 
 recall the invitation, sent and accepted. It 
 might even be as she claimed, that Fan loved 
 and clung to her as her only dear and intimate 
 friend, and craved her society and sympathy 
 now in her bereavement and ill-health, and, 
 though still suspicious and ill-satisfied, he gave 
 his reluctant assent to the plan, and was on 
 hand at the Junction to meet and welcome his 
 unwelcome guest. 
 
 The Merriams had been paying a holiday 
 visit to Floy's devoted parents at the canton 
 ment, and were absent from Sedgwick while 
 these preliminaries were being arranged. 
 Otherwise Grafton might have cast conven 
 tionality aside and asked Randy for the truth 
 about those alleged lovely times when they 
 were on their wedding journey ; but he could 
 not bring himself to write, and indeed there 
 was no time for letters to go and come and de 
 cide an issue that was already decided. It 
 was Mrs. Grafton who, two days before the 
 arrival of her lovely guest, broke the news of 
 her coming to Mr. Merriam, and was aston 
 ished at his reception thereof.
 
 104 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 It was almost sunset of one of those soft, 
 languorous southern days that make even mid 
 winter warm and grateful in the lower valley 
 of the Bravo. Across the barren level of the 
 parade the troopers were marching up from 
 stables in their white frocks, and sending long 
 shadows striding up the opposite eastward 
 slope of the narrow canon. The officers, in 
 parties of three or four, were strolling home 
 ward past the now shaded porticoes, on many 
 of which, seated with their needlework or 
 chatting with friends, the ladies of the garri 
 son were awaiting the coming of their lords or 
 lovers or both. The smooth, broad walks 
 were bright with groups of merry children or 
 sedately trundled baby-carriages. Three or 
 four of the bigger boys were galloping their 
 ponies along the roadway, fresh sprinkled by 
 the huge water-cart. The band that had been 
 playing in its kiosk in front of the line had 
 picked up its music-books and gone trudging 
 barrackward for change of raiment before pa 
 rade, skirting on the way the circular plat of 
 withered grass maintained at vast expenditure 
 of labor and water at the foot of the staff from
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 105 
 
 whose shimmering peak hung, well-nigh mo 
 tionless, the blue and scarlet and white of the 
 national flag. Northwestward the distant line 
 of the Mescalero stood blue-black against the 
 cloudless sky. Away to the east rolled the 
 dun billows of the "Jornada," illimitable in 
 monotony and range. Downward at the ford 
 
 * 
 
 of the San Mateo some Indian boys and girls 
 were m jabbering shrill expostulation to the 
 Mexican herder who was swearing strange 
 oaths at his usually placid burros, because they 
 had the good manners to shrink at the edge of 
 the stream wherein these children of nature 
 were disporting, the laughter and screaming, 
 even the splashing of the water, rising dis 
 tinctly on the air. Out on the mesa to the 
 north the quartermaster's herd was nodding 
 slowly, sleepily homeward, powdered by a dust- 
 cloud of its own raising, and over at the infan 
 try barracks at the westward end of the long 
 line scores of the men were already out in full 
 dress uniform, awaiting the bugle call that 
 should demand the assembly. Mrs. Grafton 
 had been visiting up the row and was coming 
 smilingly back, nodding greeting and saluta-
 
 106 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 tion to the ladies on the verandas of the vari 
 ous quarters as she passed, yet walking eagerly 
 so as to be at the gate, as was her habit, when 
 her captain returned from stables; seeing 
 which, some of the younger officers tried to 
 detain her or impede her way. " The captain 
 has stopped to take a drink at Buxton's, Mrs. 
 Grafton. I wouldn't hurry if I were you," 
 said one mendacious, mischievous sub. "I'll 
 leave it to Merriam if he hasn't," thereby de 
 taining Merriam, who was just as eager, ap 
 parently, to reach his own gate and receive 
 the fond welcome in Floy's deep, dark brown 
 eyes. Others, too, joined the laughing con 
 spiracy, and gazing beyond them and seeing 
 nothing of her lord among the groups still 
 farther to the rear, she as laughingly surren 
 dered and entered into joyous chat with her 
 captors the sight of one of the youngest, 
 brightest, and fairest of their number sur 
 rounded by half a dozen gallants being natu 
 rally a comfort to the lookers-on along the 
 quarters and when Randy, lifting his cap, 
 would have deserted them and gone his way 
 she was just coquette enough to care to hold
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 107 
 
 the exhibition and her attendants a moment 
 longer. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Merriam ! Don't go yet. I've 
 really important news for you. Who do you 
 think is coming to visit us?" 
 
 Randy had no idea. He smiled politely, 
 even pleasantly, and said he couldn't imagine. 
 
 "Well, but guess," persisted Mrs. Graf ton, 
 her very pretty face very full of importance. 
 
 "The Walkers, from Stoneman?" suggested 
 Randy. 
 
 "No, indeed! Nobody from that way. It's 
 from the East." 
 
 "Mrs. and Miss Pollard from Marcy?" 
 
 " Not a, bit of it. No army people at all, 
 but somebody you know very well and like 
 very much." 
 
 Then Randy began to look queer, but still 
 couldn't begin to guess. "I'm sure I'm at a 
 loss," he faltered. 
 
 "Why, Fanny McLane, of course! She's 
 been in miserable health since her husband 
 died, and they've practically ordered her to 
 try this climate; so she's coming to me. 
 She'll be here Saturday. But of course you
 
 lo8 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 know she's in deep mourning yet and can't 
 go anywhere." 
 
 For a moment Merriam was too amazed 
 too startled to trust himself to speak, and she 
 saw it, and with the quick intuition of her sex 
 saw, too, that something must be done to re 
 lieve the embarrassment that would fall upon 
 the party. 
 
 "She was one of my bridesmaids, Fanny 
 Hay ward," she hurriedly explained to the sur 
 rounding group "Mr. Merriam's bridesmaid, 
 and the loveliest girl you ever saw; and, just 
 think of it, Mr. Minturn, now she's a discon 
 solate widow with I don't know how much 
 money all her own," and then nervously she 
 cast an anxious glance at Merriam and again 
 addressed him, as though in self-defense. 
 "You know we visited with her on our way 
 West, and she told me of her charming meet 
 ing with you and Mrs. Merriam on your wed 
 ding journey, and the lovely times you had 
 before they had to go to San Francisco," and 
 now her voice had become timid and appeal 
 ing, for she saw something was very, very 
 much amiss. Merriam's face had flushed,
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. IO9 
 
 even through its coat of tan, but was now a 
 yellow-brown, all its happy, healthful glow 
 vanished, and Billy Whittaker, looking un 
 easily at him, had linked an arm in his and 
 seemed about to urge him to come away; yet 
 Merriam had to say something, and this, in 
 evident constraint, is what he said : 
 
 "Yes we did meet Mrs. McLane I'm 
 very sorry to hear she's been ill, and am much 
 surprised to hear she's coming here. Excuse 
 me, Mrs. Grafton, I must hurry on." 
 
 That evening Floy and her husband failed 
 to attend the formal hop which was held each 
 week, and their absence was noted, for she 
 loved to dance, and had promised waltzes and 
 two-steps without number to her old friends of 
 the Riflers and the cavalry both. Some one 
 proposed going after them. Mrs. Hayne 
 did call on her way home, for she left early, 
 and inquired anxiously for Florence. "She 
 has a severe headache," said Randy, who came 
 to the door with gloom in his eyes, " and she 
 felt too good-for-nothing to attempt it, so I 
 persuaded her to go to her room." He asked 
 them in, but did not invite. Both Hayne and
 
 HO AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 his wife noted that, and both felt they knew 
 the cause of all the trouble when they met 
 Whittaker ten minutes later and learned from 
 him that the Graftons expected a guest from 
 the East on Saturday Mrs. McLane. 
 
 And Saturday evening she came, almost at 
 the same hour at which she first set eyes on 
 that dreary landscape, and wondered what was 
 the name of those far, blue hills, and who 
 those officers and ladies could be. But this 
 time it was the train from the northeast that 
 bore her in, and its companion from the " Sun 
 set Route" was not yet there; neither was there 
 a swarm of officers and ladies. There was 
 only one of each a grave, dignified, soldierly 
 man in undress uniform a young, pretty, 
 stylishly attired dame at his side. The Pull 
 man came to a stop at the platform, the porter 
 sprang out laden with bags and bundles; the 
 conductor stepped off and raised his cap and 
 offered his hand to a vision of feminine 
 charms, a fair, sweet, smiling face framed in 
 dainty little cap. The heavy crape veil was 
 thrown back, and the slender, rounded form 
 was decked in sombre weeds, yet how grace-
 
 AM ARMY WIFE. Ill 
 
 fully, effectively was it draped. Even Graf- 
 ton could not fail to note it. No sign of dust 
 and grime of travel was there. The shroud 
 ing, protecting veil and duster had been dis 
 carded only just before they reached the 
 station ; Annette had stowed them carefully 
 away in the shawl-strap, while her bereaved 
 mistress carefully and skilfully arrayed her 
 self in veil and bonnet that had been boxed 
 throughout the journey. She stepped forth 
 into Harriet's welcoming arms as trim as 
 though she herself had just issued from a 
 bandbox, her joy at being once more with 
 such fond friends decorously tempered by the 
 sense of her ever-present, all-pervading sor 
 row, and the consciousness of her delicate and 
 uncertain health. Only a moment did she 
 allow herself in Harriet's embrace. No time 
 must be lost in precipitating herself upon the 
 massive and not too eloquently welcoming cap 
 tain, who held out a hand in his untutored 
 army way, as hands had been extended for the 
 score of years he had been in service, and not 
 at the height of the shoulders as was hers, 
 after the alien mode of the 90*3. Into his
 
 112 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 arms she did not throw herself, yet looked she 
 as she meant to look and have him see her 
 look, and be impressed accordingly, as though 
 such was her sense of his lofty character and her 
 own need of some strong arm on which to lean, 
 she might even be glad to find shelter there. 
 
 " There was always something so appealing 
 about Fan," said Mrs. Grafton sometimes, and 
 indeed there was. 
 
 And then the train moved on, and Grafton 
 looked grimly at the stack of Saratogas up the 
 platform, while the orderly was loading bags, 
 baskets, and bundles into the roomy Concord 
 wagon, and the quartermaster's team came rat 
 tling alongside to load up with heavy luggage. 
 
 " I won't have to see anybody to-night, will 
 I, dearest?" pleaded the widow of her devoted 
 friend, as they bowled away to the post. " I look 
 like a hag after this dreadful journey, and I'm 
 so tired. Oh! do you get soft water here, or 
 is it all this wretched alkali?" and she studied 
 her friend's already suffering complexion and 
 read her answer there. No matter; she had 
 borax and other correctives in abundance. 
 
 Inspection was all over. The cavalry were
 
 AJV ARMY WIFE. 113 
 
 all at stables down under the bluff as they 
 whirled into the great, spreading garrison and 
 went spinning up the roadway in front of offi 
 cers' quarters. The captain lifted both ladies 
 out at the gate and assisted Annette to alight ; 
 then, giving brief direction to the servant, he 
 raised his cap : " And now you are home, Mrs. 
 McLane, and I will leave you to Harriet while 
 I go down to my horses awhile," and Fan fol 
 lowed him with swimming eyes. 
 
 " How blessed you are, Harriet!" she mur 
 mured. "So strong, so noble a man! Ah, 
 I have so needed you both. I'm so thankful 
 to be here." 
 
 And as they led her beneath the shaded 
 porch, and bright eyes on other porches looked 
 eagerly on, and her own bright, brimming 
 eyes took in the many odd, unfamiliar yet at 
 tractive surroundings in this cosy army home, 
 Fan was wondering how she could ever have 
 thought of such a life how it was possible 
 for Harriet to be happy in it, while her hostess 
 was already vaguely wondering if, after all, 
 she was quite as content and happy as she was 
 
 before Fanny came. 
 8
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A WEEK went by, and by that time, as a 
 member of the Grafton household and a social 
 success at Sedgwick, the lovely widow was an 
 established fact. Everybody, as in duty bound, 
 had called within the seven days, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Merriam with the others and not among the 
 last ; but they chose Tuesday evening, which 
 was not a hop night, but the very evening on 
 which dozens of others would be calling, and 
 even then they went in company with the 
 Haynes, and found, as they expected indeed 
 as they knew the little army parlor full of 
 people. 
 
 Mrs. McLane's welcome was charming. 
 Already the soft air and sunshine, as she was 
 saying, had been of infinite benefit, and her 
 physician must have known exactly what to 
 prescribe for her, for she felt ever so much 
 better, and her cough was so much less fre 
 quent. Certainly she was looking wondrously 
 114
 
 The Rivals. Mrs. Merriam" O/c, how glad I am to see you."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 115 
 
 well whether Dame Nature or some more 
 subtle artist had touched the rounded cheeks 
 and the framework of those lustrous eyes. As 
 the quartette entered, Mrs. Hayne, the elder 
 matron, leading, and the men arose and the 
 women callers looked smilingly on, and Mrs. 
 Grafton gracefully presented the first comer, 
 the welcome accorded Mrs. Hayne was cordial 
 and gracious, with just a tinge of reserve, but 
 it was Florence, standing with flushed cheeks 
 just behind her friend and ally, the lovely 
 blue eyes sought out and then lighted instantly 
 with joy and recognition. Both slender white 
 hands were extended, and with a little cry of 
 "Mrs. Merriam! Oh, how glad I am to see 
 you again !" the accomplished little lady stepped 
 forward, uplifted her soft lips, and kissed her. 
 What Florence would have looked and said or 
 done had she not been fully forewarned can 
 not be hazarded here. " I think it more than 
 probable that she will kiss you, Floy," Mer 
 riam had said, "so look as unconcerned as you 
 can." Look unconcerned Floy did not. She 
 reddened. She almost recoiled, but Randolph 
 was at her elbow, and bent quickly forward in
 
 Il6 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 admirable time, with most audacious pleas 
 antry. Any one would have sworn that he 
 hoped to be similarly welcomed. It was more 
 than Mrs. McLane had bargained for. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Merriam!" she exclaimed, start 
 ing back in apparent confusion and astonish 
 ment. 
 
 "Do not be disconcerted," said he, with 
 placid smile. "I've always understood that a 
 man should share his wife's jcys as well as 
 her sorrows," but the rest was lost because 
 everybody began to laugh, and to believe, as 
 Mrs. Hayne and Mrs. Grafton did not, that the 
 relations between the McLanes and Merriams 
 on that idyllic wedding journey must indeed 
 have been delightful. There were two men, 
 however, who laughed not Hayne and Whit- 
 taker. Grafton was away on duty, and there 
 was one woman who felt a stinging sense of 
 defeat Fanny McLane herself. In that one 
 action on the part of Merriam there was mani 
 fest utter indifference to her former fascina 
 tions, utter defiance of her powers. 
 
 A dozen people, altogether, must have been 
 gathered in the room at the moment, and some
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. H7 
 
 officers were seated on the veranda without. 
 There were not chairs enough, so the men 
 gossiped about the piano, while the women 
 grouped about the guest, and in the general 
 chatter Mrs. McLane had no opportunity of 
 singling out and renewing her advance upon 
 Mrs. Merriam. Presently those who had been 
 there longest arose to go, and their place was 
 speedily taken by other arrivals; that soon let 
 the Haynes and Merriams out, and as they 
 tripped away homeward each seemed to draw 
 a long breath. 
 
 "Won't you come in and sit a little while?" 
 begged Mrs. Hayne, as they neared the cap 
 tain's gate. 
 
 "Not to-night, thanks," was Merriam's re 
 ply, as he felt Floy's prompt twitch at his 
 sleeve. She was still nervous. She wished 
 to get away and to bear him with her. 
 
 "Merriam," said Hayne, "I admire your 
 nerve, perhaps I should say your cheek." 
 
 "Well, it was rather a trying moment," said 
 Merriam gravely. " Florence would rather 
 be struck than kissed by her, and I feared she 
 could not avoid showing it,"
 
 Il8 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "Well, you created a diversion, certainly,' 
 said Hayne. "Good-night, if you must go." 
 But Mrs. Hayne did not speak until they were 
 out of sight. She was anxiously watching 
 Florence, who, beyond a barely audible " Good 
 night," had not uttered a word. 
 
 "Lawrence," said she finally, "that may 
 have been a stroke of. finesse on Mr. Merriam's 
 part, and may have created a diversion, as you 
 say, and distracted attention from Floy, but 
 she didn't like it." 
 
 Some of the fair widow's calls were returned 
 almost immediately, the Merriams' among the 
 first, although the Merriams were not among 
 the first to welcome her arrival. As luck 
 would have it, Merriam was out on some troop 
 duty. Mrs. Merriam saw her coming, accom 
 panied by Mrs. Grafton, and fairly flew up 
 stairs to her room instead of first giving 
 instructions to her servant, as an older soldier 
 of society would have done. In consequence 
 the Chinaman admitted her caller to Floy's 
 pretty parlor, and went in search of the lady 
 of the house. Mrs. Grafton seated herself in 
 an easy-chair, but Fanny flitted rapidly from
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 119 
 
 point to point, scanning pictures, books, and 
 bric-a-brac. "John" presently reappeared, 
 smiling vacuously. 
 
 "No can see. She sick, velly," he sturdily 
 reported. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton looked concerned; Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane annoyed. 
 
 "I'm sure I saw her on the tennis court not 
 an hour since," she muttered to her hostess, 
 as, after proper expressions of sympathy and 
 regret, they regained the roadway. 
 
 "Well, she hasn't been looking well for 
 some days," said Mrs. Grafton, "and it's quite 
 possible she is ill." 
 
 The schoolmates had been housed together 
 only a few days before Mrs. Grafton became 
 convinced that Fanny's devotions were rapidly 
 waning, that with recovering health and bloom 
 and spirits the crying need for the one dear 
 friend to lean on had vanished. Less and less 
 grew the hours of confidential chat. More 
 and more was the late disconsolate widow be 
 coming interested, not to say absorbed, in the 
 details of garrison life. Freeman, formerly 
 of the th, but now a squadron commander
 
 120 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 at Sedgwick, remarked that the lady was " be* 
 ginning to take notice uncommonly early, "and 
 Minturn, with whom she was quite ready to 
 walk and even to visit the tennis court, was 
 heard to ask if they never had such things as 
 half-mourning hops. Whittaker, who was 
 sulky about something and preternaturally 
 stately as a consequence, reminded him that 
 Mrs. McLane was still in deep mourning, 
 full mourning to which a cynic in shoul 
 der-straps who happened to be present replied 
 that he only wished that other fulls could be 
 as lightly worn. "She may have been in the 
 depths of woe before she left Chicago, as Mrs. 
 Graf ton declares she was," said Mrs. Buxton, 
 a lady with years of experiences, "but she's 
 bravely over it soon enough. She'll be danc 
 ing next." And this unchristian, unchari 
 table remark was called forth by the sight of 
 the lady going to ride with Whittaker Whit- 
 taker, who at first could hardly be induced to 
 call, and who now could hardly be induced to 
 believe it time to go. 
 
 And of course before she had been at the 
 post a week everybody knew that this was the
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 12 1 
 
 woman to whom Merriam was at least believed 
 to be engaged two years before, and that added 
 to the thrilling interest of the situation. For 
 a little while it had been quite a problem how 
 to entertain her. She couldn't go to dances or 
 dinners. She could perhaps ride and play ten 
 nis, but tennis she did not care for. Riding 
 was unpleasant because there were no winding 
 wood roads, no elastic turf. The mesa was 
 pebbly or sandy by turns, the canon narrow, 
 the roads dusty. Ladies' lunches, very, very 
 quiet and informal, she consented to attend, 
 but she did not care for lunches. The women 
 presently declared she did not care for women. 
 The men, especially Minturn and Whitta- 
 ker, had early become devoted to her, and 
 there could be no doubt of her powers of fas 
 cination. The gunner and the trooper grew 
 cold and constrained in their manner toward 
 each other, and Whittaker quit going, as go he 
 used to day and night, to Hayne's or Merri- 
 am's. The colonel's wife, dying to be hospi 
 table, had urged a little, quiet, home dinner. 
 " Just yourself, your friends the Graftons and 
 Merriams, and, say, Mr. Minturn." Mrs.
 
 T22 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Grafton assured the kind army woman that 
 Mrs. McLane would not think of accepting. 
 Mrs. McLane amazed her hostess by eventu 
 ally saying yes. 
 
 Since the Tuesday evening of their call, not 
 once had the Merriams held conversation with 
 the widow. She called, as has been seen, 
 and Mrs. Merriam had to be excused. Mrs. 
 Merriam used to love tennis, but quit the game 
 as soon as Mrs. McLane began coming to the 
 court. Mrs. Merriam, who used to love to 
 ride with Randy, had discontinued it a day or 
 two after that alleged illness, as though to 
 carry out the illusion, but by the Thursday 
 she again appeared in saddle and galloped out 
 upon the mesa by her husband's side. Re 
 turning they met Mrs. McLane just starting 
 out with her gunner friend, and the ice had 
 to be broken. The stylishly habited widow 
 beamed on both, begged Floy to let her know 
 at what hour they could ride next day, as she 
 adored it of all things, and next day Floy's 
 horse was reported "dead lame," and she 
 would ride no other. When Mrs. Colonel's 
 invitation came for that utterly unlooked-for
 
 "Staring into vacancy as she did so."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 123 
 
 dinner, the Merriams were cornered, for Floy, 
 though looking sallow and heavy-eyed now, 
 was not really ill and could urge no excuse. 
 Garrison dinner " bids" must be answered as 
 promptly as those in city life. "We've got to 
 go, dear," said Merriam calmly, "so send our 
 acceptance." 
 
 "I won't go," said Floy to herself, as she 
 penned and signed the little note, and when 
 Saturday came she was too ill to leave her bed. 
 Mrs. Hayne came to minister to and sit with 
 her. The Freemans were bidden instead, and 
 Mrs. Freeman could have stamped her pretty 
 foot in vexation, for neither she nor her lord 
 thought it the proper thing for Mrs. McLane 
 to be going to dinners so early in her widow 
 hood ; besides, there were other reasons. 
 
 The dinner came off, however, and was a 
 dismal feast with a dramatic conclusion. 
 
 As has been shown, only twice had Mrs. 
 McLane had speech with Merriam during the 
 seven days, and both times it was in presence 
 of his wife. The Graftons, Haynes, and Free 
 mans were delighted with him as a conse 
 quence, and rejoiced in secret over her. But
 
 124 AN' ARMY WIFE. 
 
 not a whit did the widow show disappointment 
 or discomfiture. She was amply entertained, 
 apparently, with the increasing devotions of 
 Minturn and Whittaker, and the latter spent 
 two miserable hours this Saturday evening 
 in jealous contemplation of his own outcast 
 lot and Minturn's presumable bliss. Yet the 
 colonel could not have both to dinner, so Mrs. 
 Colonel was allowed to decide, and her prefer 
 ence was for the artilleryman. The Graftons 
 went with rather bad grace, Mrs. Grafton 
 warning her guest that the whole garrison 
 would be talking of her inconstancy, but, as 
 Ned Parry remarked on a previous occasion, 
 Fan had had her own way ever since she cut 
 her first tooth, and did not propose to be ruled 
 now. 
 
 " Almost the last words Mr. McLane whis 
 pered," said she indignantly, "were to im 
 plore me not to waste my youth in vain 
 lamentation. 'Life is too short to be spent in 
 tears,' were his very words," and evidently 
 the widow was here in full sympathy with the 
 expressed or reported views of the dear de 
 parted. She went. She looked uncommonly
 
 ARMY WIFE. 125 
 
 pretty in a gown of deepest, most sombre, and 
 most expensive crape. She sat at the colonel's 
 right, and made eyes at him all through din 
 ner, leaving Minturn on her right to sulk and 
 scowl and seek comfort in the commandant's 
 champagne. Fanny herself partook not too 
 sparingly of this seductive fluid, and was 
 sparkling with animation and good spirits 
 when, just before coffee was served just as 
 the trumpets were sounding tattoo out on the 
 moonlit parade, a servant came and whispered 
 to the master of the house. 
 
 "Tell him I'm at dinner and can't see him 
 now." 
 
 The servant vanished, then reappeared, 
 bent and whispered again. 
 
 "Tell him I'm at dinner and wont see him 
 now," said the colonel, not unwilling to im 
 press on his fair guest the idea of his profes 
 sional importance and personal force. The 
 servant bent and whispered again, whereat the 
 colonel changed color, and glanced up uncer 
 tainly in the troubled face of the messenger, 
 then as uncertainly around the table, his eyes 
 only for an instant meeting those of his guest.
 
 126 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "Will you excuse me a moment, my dear?" 
 he said to his wife, and left the table and the 
 room. 
 
 Conversation went on somewhat constrain 
 edly. Mrs. McLane, intent on fascinating the 
 colonel, had rather ignored the rest. Minturn 
 was plainly in the sulks, and Mrs. Colonel, 
 with anxiety in her eyes, was plainly listening 
 to the hurried talk in the outer room. Pres 
 ently in came the servant. Would Captain 
 Grafton please join the colonel in the parlor, 
 and, wondering, Grafton went. 
 
 "It's that dreadful telegraph operator," said 
 Mrs. Colonel, in a low, troubled tone. " It's 
 some bad news. Indian outbreak, probably, 
 or he'd never be so insistent." 
 
 Then all conversation seemed to drag, and 
 people only spoke in monosyllables or haz 
 arded some guess as to what could be the 
 matter. 
 
 But it wasn't Indians. It wasn't warfare. 
 It was only the soldier telegrapher at the post, 
 who bore with him a message which the opera 
 tor at the Junction had received positive in 
 structions from the Eastern manager to deliver
 
 AM ARMY WIFE. 1*1 
 
 at once and report delivery and get an answer. 
 It was for Mrs. McLane. So there was noth 
 ing for it but to call her, and with sudden 
 panic in her eyes she hurried into the parlor, 
 shrank for a moment from the proffered dis 
 patch then, with an effort at self-control, took 
 it, tore it open, read with dilating eyes, lifted 
 her hand to her face as though in bewilder 
 ment and dismay, staring into vacancy as she 
 did so, and then suddenly, without a moan, 
 without a sound from her lips, went down in a 
 limp heap upon the bear-skin rug whereon she 
 stood, and the ladies rushed to out could not 
 revive her. 
 
 Full half an hour they labored over her. 
 The messenger had dashed for the doctor and 
 brought him to the scene. Grafton had res 
 cued the paper just as it seemed about to flut 
 ter into the fireplace, folding and stowing it 
 away in his coat-pocket, and not until after 
 ten did she seem to recover consciousness, not 
 until near the sounding of taps could they 
 bear her home, and then the messenger came 
 back. The operator at the Junction said they 
 must have report of the receipt of the mes-
 
 128 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 sage, and some answer: this was imperative. 
 Grafton appealed to the doctor. The doctor 
 said Mrs. McLane was only semi-conscious 
 and could answer nothing. "She is your 
 guest, man. Read the dispatch and reply as 
 best you can. Whatever its contents, they 
 have shocked her seriously." 
 
 And so finally Grafton read the message 
 and could fathom only a portion of its meaning. 
 
 "Arrested, Chicago. Your uncle stricken 
 paralysis. You will be summoned. Secure 
 papers, otherwise lose everything. 
 
 "C. M."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THREE days after the colonel's dinner, Mrs. 
 McLane was pronounced sufficiently well to 
 take the open air, but did not look sufficiently 
 well, in her own opinion, to take the hint, nor 
 did Mrs. Graf ton too eagerly urge. By this 
 time the hostess was fully convinced that Fan 
 ny was far from being the frank, confiding 
 creature she had pictured herself to be ; that 
 she had come to Sedgwick with other purpose 
 in view than that of seeking the sympathy and 
 counsel of her erstwhile schoolmate ; that she 
 was concealing from her, to whom she once 
 longed to unbosom her every thought, some 
 vital and thrilling circumstance, and, worst of 
 all, that Captain Grafton now knew what it 
 was, and wouldn't tell. This perhaps, was 
 almost unpardonable. In vain had Mrs. Graf- 
 ton insinuated, inquired, insisted, and finally 
 implored. Her husband was gentle, but ob 
 durate. 
 
 9 129
 
 13 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 "I know nothing, Harriet," he simply said: 
 " I do, perhaps, conjecture, but all I conjecture 
 is derived from that dispatch, the contents of 
 which should be seen and known only by your 
 friend the your friend and once-upon-a-time 
 bridesmaid. If she choose to tell you, well 
 and good, but I cannot." 
 
 But he told Mrs. McLane what he had read 
 without telling what he conjectured, and then 
 furthermore told her what he had done wired 
 to Aunt Charlotte that her niece was prostrated 
 by the receipt of her dispatch, and might not 
 be able to reply for several days, so Aunt 
 Charlotte was existing without further knowl 
 edge of the condition of her niece as placidly, 
 let us hope, as was her niece without further 
 knowledge of the condition of her uncle. 
 
 It was on this third day when the doc 
 tor left, after saying Mrs. McLane ought to go 
 and take a drive or a ride, that Grafton wrote 
 to her a few words reporting that he had read 
 Aunt Charlotte's dispatch and replied to it as 
 above stated. This note he sent in by An 
 nette. Mrs. Grafton was receiving sympathiz 
 ing callers at the moment, and the captain
 
 'Intently Zlematit eyed the Captains face
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 131 
 
 bade Annette say that if he could be of any 
 further service Mrs. McLane should let him 
 know. Presently Annette returned with a 
 note. 
 
 "I am so distracted," it said, "so friendless, 
 I do not know what to do. You are the only 
 man upon whose counsel I can depend, but 
 even that is denied me, for Harriet has turned 
 cold and unkind. Because I cannot tell her 
 the secrets of others she thinks me false to our 
 old friendship, and she has changed to me so 
 much that were I able to travel I should go at 
 once, only how could we explain? Oh, I long 
 to tell you the whole story, but I cannot ! I 
 must not! and I must not do that which might 
 increase her suspicion " But here Grafton 
 began to frown angrily. He read no further, 
 though there were half a dozen lines on the 
 following page, but tossed the whole thing into 
 the open fireplace, tramped right up-stairs and 
 tapped at the guest-room door. 
 
 " Can you come to the door a moment, Mrs. 
 McLane?" he asked. 
 
 There was the sound of sudden rush and 
 rustle within, then her light footfall, the clack
 
 132 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 of the door-knob, and her voice, low and 
 sweet. 
 
 "You startled me so," she said, through the 
 inch-wide aperture that appeared, but left her 
 invisible. " I dreaded that it was another tele 
 gram. Oh, I'm not fit to be seen, but " 
 
 "I don't w I don't need to see you, Mrs. 
 McLane," said he stoutly. "We can converse 
 perfectly well, as Annette is below stairs. All 
 I wish to say is this : if I can be of service in 
 sending off any letters or dispatches to your 
 friends, command me. But really, Mrs. Mc 
 Lane, there is no need of telling me anything 
 about the matter." 
 
 "But I have to, Captain Grafton," and the 
 door opened a bit wider. " I must have your 
 advice. I must do something right away, and 
 you're the only one who can help me." 
 
 "Then I'll ask Harriet to come here at 
 once," said he, and, suiting action to words, 
 started for the stairway. 
 
 She rushed out after him, dishevelled, pal 
 lid. "Oh, I cannot tell Harriet," she cried. 
 
 "Then, Mrs. McLane, you cannot tell me." 
 
 For a moment she looked at him in amaze.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 133 
 
 ' I will wire for your lawyer, Mr. Parry," he 
 went on calmly. " He can advise what I prob 
 ably could not." 
 
 " He cannot advise as you can, captain. It's 
 a matter he knows nothing about. I've got to 
 see Mr. Merriam, and he avoids me even worse 
 than you do, than in fact everybody does now 
 that I'm in deep trouble," she wailed. 
 
 " I am sure Mr. Merriam will come to you if 
 there is anything of importance," said Graf ton 
 gravely. " I will see him at stables, and the 
 call is sounding now." 
 
 "Oh, not to-day not to-day. To-morrow 
 perhaps, but not to-day. I really cannot see 
 him just yet. I'm so unstrung and he 
 mustn't let her his wife, know. She'll never 
 rest till she's worried it all out of him." 
 
 "He will let his wife know," said Graf ton 
 calmly, " and is wise in so doing, but she will 
 not be apt to make inquiries." Then he 
 turned and left her. 
 
 There were two restless and unhappy men 
 at Sedgwick now gunner and trooper Min- 
 turn and Whittaker, and, each at his appropri 
 ate stable, managed to intercept the troop
 
 134 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 commander on the way to his own, each im 
 portunate for tidings of the fair invalid, each 
 resentful of his indifference and unpitying re 
 sponse. Grafton was a warm friend where he 
 liked, but an unbeliever and a cynic where he 
 did not, and Grafton believed that he had fath 
 omed Fanny McLane's shallow nature and 
 secret purpose, and was intolerant of her to 
 the verge of rudeness. He loved his wife. 
 He mourned the semi-deception in which she 
 had indulged in having, against his wishes, 
 brought her former friend within their gates. 
 But now he looked upon Harriet as being quite 
 sufficiently punished, and equally willing that 
 Mrs. McLane should take herself elsewhere. 
 If, therefore, Merriam would see her and do 
 or refuse to do that which she demanded of 
 him, Grafton felt that he might speed his part 
 ing guest and relieve not only his own but his 
 fair wife's shoulders of a heavy load. He was 
 late reaching stables, a fact burly old Buxton 
 would be quick to notice and as quick to re 
 buke. He had delayed only a minute or two 
 after the sounding of the call, because he 
 wished to have his interview over and done
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 135 
 
 with. The men of his troop were already 
 leading out as he came in sight of the long 
 row of yellow-washed rookeries that passed 
 for stables, and it annoyed him to be hailed on 
 the way, one after another, by these two ad 
 mirers of so much that he couldn't admire at 
 all. Then, as luck would have it, the lieuten 
 ant-colonel was the next to accost him and to 
 remark that he was five minutes late, which 
 wasn't so, but couldn't be contradicted, and 
 Grafton was gritting his teeth when he reached 
 his troop. He was in no mood to talk diplo 
 matically with Merriam just then, and knew 
 it, and was thankful that the lieutenant was 
 still another stable beyond, when who should 
 appear, walking rapidly back from the bank 
 where the horses were watering, than Merriam 
 himself. Seeing inquiry in the captain's eye, 
 he stepped quickly toward him. 
 
 "My wife isn't feeling at all well," he ex 
 plained, "and I'm excused in order to return 
 to her." 
 
 "Nothing serious, I hope," said Grafton. 
 There, at least, was a woman he approved of. 
 
 " Nothing that I can understand, or the 4oc-
 
 136 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 tor either," said Randy, anxiously. "She 
 hasn't been like herself for several days, and 
 gets worse instead of better. I don't like to 
 be away from her, although Mrs. Hayne is 
 there a great deal, bless her!" 
 
 "I'm sorry I'm doubly sorry, Merriam," 
 said Grafton, uncomfortably, " for I was on 
 the point of asking you to come over and see 
 Mrs. McLane about a matter which is giving 
 her deep anxiety." 
 
 Merriam's face began to darken at once, but 
 he said no word. 
 
 "Randy," continued Grafton, after a mo 
 ment's embarrassed pause, " I know it's ask 
 ing a great deal more than I should care to do 
 were I in your place, and I wouldn't ask it if I 
 didn't think it might do good for all and do 
 harm to none. You heard of her sudden pros 
 tration the other night?" 
 
 "Yes but " 
 
 " Do you know have you any idea of the 
 cause?" 
 
 "Not the faintest No! I can't say that. 
 She got a telegram, I heard." 
 
 " She did, and an answer was demanded and
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 137 
 
 I had to read it and reply that she was pros 
 trated and couldn't answer herself, perhaps for 
 days. I have no right to tell you what was in 
 the message, but she seems to need to see you. 
 She says to-morrow I say to-night." 
 
 For a moment no answer came. At last, 
 with evident effort, Merriam spoke. 
 
 " I had promised myself never to see her 
 alone. It is due to my wife, if not to me. 
 You know the relations that existed. Now 
 Mrs. Merriam does not like your guest." 
 
 "Neither do I," interrupted Grafton stoutly, 
 "and I've an idea she'll go after she's got 
 what information you can give her." 
 
 And now Merriam 's face began to lose its 
 dark look and to grow suddenly pale. " Do 
 you mean that this telegram has made has 
 anything to do with her wish to see me?" 
 
 " Everything, Merriam, according to my be 
 lief, and if I could tell you what it said I think 
 you would not refuse her." 
 
 Intently Merriam eyed the captain's face as 
 though burning with eagerness to read his full 
 meaning. 
 
 " Very well, I will come right after retreat.
 
 1 38 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Surely five minutes ought to be enough," he 
 said at length, and then went thoughtfully 
 homeward. 
 
 But retreat parade came within so short a 
 time after Graf ton's return to his quarters that 
 his message to Mrs. McLane covered that lady 
 with consternation. What ! Meet Randy Mer- 
 riam when she had less than thirty minutes in 
 which to dress! It couldn't be thought of! 
 When Merriam called, Mrs. Grafton fluttered 
 down, with flushing cheeks and indignant 
 eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Merriam, but really 
 Mrs. McLane says she is so far from well again 
 this evening that she cannot see any one. She 
 has gone back to bed, but begs that you will 
 come in at noon to-morrow. How is dear 
 Florence? I should have been to see her, but 
 I am tied hands and feet." 
 
 And Randy went angering back to Floy's 
 mutely inquiring eyes. "What can I do to 
 cheer you to-night, my darling?" he whis 
 pered, as he bent over to kiss her. " Is Mrs. 
 Hayne coming back?" 
 
 Florence was lying on the sofa in her pretty 
 room aloft, and Merriam knelt at her side, tak-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 139 
 
 ing her passive hand in his and stroking gently 
 the curls that shimmered about her white tem 
 ples. The smile with which she greeted him 
 was very wan and flitting. 
 
 " She said she would, after a little. I told 
 her you'd be in right after parade, but " and 
 the " but" had a mournful tone to it. 
 
 " I had to stop a moment on the way, dear. 
 A matter I promised to attend to," and again 
 he bent and laid his lips upon her brow, then 
 pressed them to hers. Time was, and only a 
 few days gone by, when she used to meet that 
 fond caress with a kiss as fond, as lingering 
 as his own. Now she lay there patient, un 
 responsive. Something prompted him to pass 
 his arm underneath her neck and to draw her 
 head to his breast, and she let herself go, un 
 resisting, but her cheek did not nestle happily, 
 confidently, as was its way. Her big, pathetic 
 eyes were downcast, even averted. 
 
 " I wish I knew some way to gladden your 
 a bit, my Brownie," he murmured, using for 
 almost the first time her father's own fond 
 pet name for her, and he was startled be 
 yond measure at the result. One instant her
 
 i 40 AN ARM Y 
 
 face lighted as with sudden, radiant joy, then 
 quivered all over with pent-up emotion. Then 
 the pretty mouth began to twitch and the lips 
 to tremble, and then despite every effort she 
 turned back to her pillow and burst into a pas 
 sion of tears, great sobs shaking her slender 
 frame from head to foot. 
 
 "Florence! Florence!" he cried, in utter 
 dismay and trouble. " What is it, sweetheart? 
 What is it, my pet, my precious? Ah, don't 
 turn from me like that. You are not well, my 
 own, or you would not break my heart by 
 shrinking from me. What can I have said to 
 so distress you?" And now he would take no 
 denial, but had clasped his arms about her and 
 drawn her to his breast again, and began kiss 
 ing away her tears and striving to check her 
 sobbing. It was useless. 
 
 "Oh, let me cry let me cry!" she pleaded. 
 "It's it's what I need." 
 
 And so in pain and bewilderment he yielded 
 to her wish and strove to content himself with 
 murmuring soft, soothing words and holding 
 her close to his heart, and at last the storm of 
 tears seemed drifting away and she could
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 141 
 
 speak in answer to his pleading, and presently 
 she looked one instant into his eyes and began : 
 
 " Do you think could we go back to the 
 cantonment for just a little while?" 
 
 "Why, Floy, darling, we've only just come 
 from there." 
 
 " I know. And yet and yet oh, it seems 
 months years since since then!" And now 
 the sobs again became uncontrollable, and in 
 dread and distress he sprang up to call the 
 servant and bid him go for Mrs. Hayne and 
 the doctor. Florence protested, even implored, 
 but to no purpose. The message was sent, 
 and before many minutes both were there. 
 
 The medico looked perturbed when he came 
 down-stairs; talked about low nervous condi 
 tion ; said that air, sunshine, cheerful compan 
 ionship were what she really needed, etc., etc. 
 She'd been housing herself too much of late. 
 He would send over some sedatives from the 
 hospital ; and then he bustled out, and was glad 
 to get away. Then came an orderly with the 
 colonel's compliments, and would Mr. Mer- 
 riam step over to the office a minute; and, 
 glancing out across the parade, Randy was
 
 142 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 surprised to see that bright lights were shining 
 from the windows at headquarters and there 
 were signs of unusual life and stir about the 
 infantry barracks. Quickly he mounted the 
 stairs and again knelt by the side of his young 
 wife. She was quieter now, but evidently 
 weak from the violence of her emotion, if from 
 no other cause. Smiling sympathetically, 
 Mrs. Hayne arose from her place near the head 
 of the sofa that he might come closer and fold 
 Florence in his arms, as she felt sure Florence 
 wished to be folded, and Randy did come 
 nearer and took the slender hand in his and 
 spoke tenderly and fondly, and bent again and 
 kissed the pale forehead, lingeringly, and all 
 this Florence seemed to accept without other 
 notice than silence and submission. Mrs. 
 Hayne gazed with swiftly changeful expres 
 sion. This was something utterly new, utterly 
 unlocked for. What could have occurred to 
 turn Florence Merriam, fondest, happiest of 
 wives, into this limp, unresponsive creature? 
 Surely it could not be that there lingered one 
 remaining doubt of Randy now. He had 
 ignored so utterly, so successfully, the wiles of
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 143 
 
 the coquette to whom he owed allegiance a 
 year gone by. She heard him murmur, "I'll 
 be back very soon, dearest," saw the sudden 
 upward sweep of the white eyelids and the 
 miserable, questioning look in the dark brown 
 eyes. "The colonel has sent for me to attend 
 him at the office," he explained, and the eye 
 lids drooped again. Then he pressed his lips 
 to hers and they answered not at all. Then 
 he rose, and with deep concern in his manly 
 face turned to go. " It is so good of you to 
 come to us," he said to Mrs. Hayne. "I 
 should be at a loss without you. I'll hurry 
 back." 
 
 But his last look as he left the room was for 
 Florence, whose eyes followed him only until 
 his turned again to her. Then they drooped 
 again. 
 
 "Floy, dear," said Mrs. Hayne, after a mo 
 ment of thought, " I'm going to ask you some 
 thing." 
 
 The girl held up her white hand, and, as 
 though listening, said "Wait." 
 
 They heard Randy in the hall below, as he 
 threw his cape over his shoulders and hastened
 
 144 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 out, heard him go bounding down the steps, 
 out through the gateway, and then across the 
 hard gravel of the road. Then as his footfalls 
 died away, Mrs. Hayne knelt where he had 
 knelt the moment before. 
 
 "Floy, dear, it isn't possible you think he 
 still cherishes any feeling except of pity or 
 contempt for that woman? I never saw any 
 thing more perfect than his devotion to you 
 his avoidance of her." 
 
 For answer, with sudden force the young 
 wife seemed to tear herself from the touch of 
 the friendly hand, the sound of the gentle 
 voice, and, burying her face in her arms, turn 
 ing her back upon her consoler, moaned aloud. 
 " Oh, Floy, Floy, my little friend ! You must 
 not doubt him. Never distrust him again. 
 Why! he will not even go near her. He will 
 not see her speak with her, and I never heard 
 such love and tenderness in his voice as when 
 he speaks to you." 
 
 Then, as though stung, Florence whirled 
 upon her, and with dilated, burning eyes, and 
 a hot flush overspreading her face, with lips 
 close set as though to beat down the tremors.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 145 
 
 that strove for the mastery, answered with 
 startling vehemence : 
 
 " But / have it's when he calls to her 
 talks to her in his sleep!" 
 
 Then Mrs. Hayne sprang up, aghast. One 
 moment she stood gazing incredulously down 
 at Florence, a world of sorrow and pity in her 
 eyes. Then, with her hand to her ear, cried 
 "Hark!" and hastened to the window. 
 
 Far out across the still, starlit level of the 
 parade a trumpeter was sounding officers' call. 
 10
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THAT night the Riflers, seven companies, 
 were whirled away by special train to the 
 rescue of the railway shops and roundhouses 
 at Cimmaron Springs, a hundred miles to the 
 north. One of those unaccountable manias 
 that prompt men to appropriate other people's 
 property had seized upon the employees of the 
 road. The Valley Division had been forced to 
 abandon all trains, and it was only a question 
 of time, said the ringleaders, when the Moun 
 tain Division would follow suit. Passenger 
 and cattle, fruit and freight trains were block 
 aded. The mails, sent- through at first with a 
 single car, were presently belated, then blocked 
 entirely, and Uncle Sam, who had been show 
 ing his teeth for twenty-four hours, now showed 
 his hand. In the old days of Sedgwick it was 
 the cavalry that was perpetually being bustled 
 off on the warpath, leaving the infantry to hold 
 fort, but of late the Indians had kept the
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 147 
 
 peace and the cavalry the post. Then came 
 the sudden outbreak of trouble on an Eastern 
 road, the swift assurance of sympathy from 
 brethren in the West, and then a strike that 
 speedily established the fact that there were 
 still savages in the valley of the Bravo, for 
 men who tried to stand to their duty were 
 kicked and battered into pulp, and helpless 
 women and children were burned out of house 
 and home. 
 
 The colonel was in no wise eager to go on 
 any such mission. He kept at the metaphorical 
 front, but the actual rear, of his men, secure 
 in the precaution that cool-headed Captain 
 Hayne was forward on the pilot of the en 
 gine. If the trestle work were sawed away or 
 bridges burned at inconvenient points, Hayne 
 would not be apt to let the train stumble into 
 the pitfall. It was nearly dawn before the 
 special reached Santa Fe Junction, but the 
 Riflers marched thither soon after midnight, 
 leaving many weeping wives at home. They 
 had not the stoicism of those women long 
 schooled in such calamities the ladies of the 
 cavalry.
 
 148 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Buxton succeeded to the command of the 
 post and its garrison, now made up of one big 
 squadron of the th, four troops, and Cap 
 tain Blinker's battery of mounted artillery, 
 and what fairly pestered Buxton was why the 
 colonel should have sent for Mr. Merriam 
 within ten minutes after the dispatches began 
 coming in just after retreat, and Merriam 
 wouldn't tell. 
 
 The first dispatch was from department 
 headquarters, and bade the colonel hold his 
 entire regiment ready for instant duty and a 
 journey by rail. Bux was with him when it 
 came, and together they had gone to the office. 
 Then was handed in another, which the colonel 
 read but did not pass over to his second in 
 command. On the contrary he thought a bit 
 and sent for Mr. Merriam, and took him to one 
 side and had a conversation with him of five 
 minutes' duration that was inaudible to every 
 body else. Bux did catch a word or two, but 
 could make of it nothing that did not stimulate 
 his curiosity. "Killed," " Mescalero Moun 
 tains," "written statement" " McLane only 
 twenty-three," were some of them, and when
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 149 
 
 he took the commanding officer's desk the next 
 day, he ransacked it to find that dispatch, sup 
 posing it to be something official. It was only 
 semi-official, said the operator. It came from 
 department headquarters, but was addressed 
 to the colonel personally, not in his capacity as 
 post-commander, consequently it was not filed, 
 and Bux couldn't find it. 
 
 The guard had to be reduced, and Buxton 
 gave orders accordingly a sergeant, three 
 corporals, twelve sentries for four posts, and 
 the inevitable and indispensable orderly for 
 the commanding officer being all now author 
 ized, since both battery and troop commanders 
 had to keep up their stable guards. But Bux 
 ton insisted on a lieutenant as officer of the 
 guard, and, as luck would have it, the man 
 directed to relieve the infantry sub starting off 
 with his regiment was Randolph Merriam. 
 
 He had hastened home to let Florence know 
 it was the Riflers, not the cavalry, that were 
 summoned this time, and instead of finding 
 her somewhat tranquillized was distressed to 
 see traces of continued, if not greater, agitation. 
 Mrs. Hayne, of course, had been hurried home.
 
 150 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Florence had left the sofa and was nervously 
 pacing the little room. He heard her rapid 
 footsteps as he let himself in at the door below, 
 but as he bounded up the stairs she hurried to 
 the window and stood leaning against the sash, 
 her back toward him as he entered. 
 
 Closing the door and hastening to her, Mer- 
 riam took her in his arms and turned her face 
 to his. It was hot and flushed. The eyes were 
 still red with weeping, the lids swollen and 
 disfigured. 
 
 "Why, Florence, dear," he began, in tones 
 of mingled reproof and distress, "what can 
 have happened to so disturb you? We do not 
 go. It is only the Riflers this time." 
 
 For one moment there was silence, then a 
 sudden outburst: 
 
 " I wish we did go. I wish to heaven I had 
 never again seen this hateful, hateful post or 
 else that she had not." 
 
 "She! Florence? Who?" 
 
 "The woman you went to see when I was 
 out of the way after parade this evening and 
 dare not tell me." 
 
 "Florence! Florence!" be cried, in utter
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 151 
 
 amaze and distress. "Listen to me, dear," he 
 pleaded, for she was struggling to release her 
 self "listen to me, child." 
 
 "Child? I am no child! I was one, per 
 haps, when you came into my life when I 
 married you. But not now not now, Randy 
 I'm a woman with a burning, bleeding heart. 
 Why should you go there ? Why should you 
 hide it from me?" 
 
 "You were ill and wretched. I knew you 
 could not bear her. Grafton asked me to come 
 on a matter entirely of business." 
 
 " Oh ! what business have you to have busi 
 ness of any kind with her now?" 
 
 " I do not yet know, Florence," he answered, 
 slowly releasing her, and his tone changing to 
 one in which pain and reproach were mingling 
 now. " I have not seen her ; indeed she refused 
 to see me." 
 
 "You said Captain Grafton urged you to 
 come, What right had he if she didn't mean 
 to see you?" 
 
 "That remains to be explained, Florence. 
 I have had no time to inquire. Indeed, I have 
 not felt sufficient interest. Mrs. Grafton said
 
 152 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 the lady had declined to see anybody, and had 
 gone back to bed, prostrated again, possibly. 
 I was most anxious to come to you, my wife, 
 little dreaming what welcome was in store for 
 me. Florence, dear, is it possible is it credi 
 ble that you have let that poor woman come as 
 a torment into your life and make you so un 
 just to me? O my little """Mier girl, is this 
 just to either of us?" 
 
 "Tell me this!" she demanded, suddenly 
 facing him and looking into his troubled eyes. 
 " Is there any business can there be any rea 
 son why she should wish to see you alone?" 
 
 Merriam hesitated. "Florence," he began, 
 " there are matters sometimes made known to 
 a man that he must divulge to no- one. I do 
 not know what she desires of me, but I believe 
 it is her wish to learn all I know about that 
 poor fellow who was killed up the Mescalero 
 last June nothing else." 
 
 "And needs a private interview with her 
 rejected lover for that purpose!" she inter 
 rupted, her eyes flashing anew. The child 
 was indeed a woman. "Oh, I hate her! I 
 hate her!" she cried, throwing herself passion-
 
 
 * Can there be any reason why she should wis/t to see you alone ?"
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 153 
 
 ately upon the sofa, and then Merriam cried 
 " Hush !" for some one was knocking at the 
 door. 
 
 It was the servant, their oblique-eyed China 
 man, with a note. "My knockee tlee times," 
 he grinned. "All time talkee talkee; no 
 listen." 
 
 It was a brief summons to relieve Lieutenant 
 Henry in command of the guard, at once. 
 Henry had to go with his regiment. 
 
 "Mrs. Hayne is coming back, is she not?" 
 he queried of Florence, but had to repeat the 
 query twice. She only shook her head. 
 
 He waited a moment. " Listen, Florence, 
 dear," he presently said, as he bent compas 
 sionately over her. " I am ordered on guard at 
 once, and must go to relieve Henry. Even 
 though I cannot tell you what Mrs. McLane 
 wishes to see me about, this I will tell you, 
 dear. If I must see her, you shall know it 
 first from me, and not hear of it through 
 some meddling gossip." 
 
 He was wondering as he walked away who 
 could have told his wife he had called at Graf- 
 ton's and asked for Mrs. McLane. He was too
 
 154 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 proud to inquire. He had kissed her gently, 
 forgivingly, as he said to himself, before com 
 ing away, and promised that he would be with 
 her again if only for a few minutes before the 
 signal for lights out. He found Henry swear 
 ing with impatience, as the youngster had a 
 " raft" of preparations to make, and it was very 
 late, nearly eleven o'clock, before he had re-es 
 tablished the sentry posts as ordered by the 
 new officer of the day. The trumpets sounded 
 "taps" to heedless ears, and the lights burned 
 brightly in all the barracks, and the troopers 
 who were not to go were chaffing the " dough 
 boys" who were, and so mixing up not a little 
 in the work of preparation. He had seen 
 Hayne a moment and had been told that Mrs. 
 Hayne would run back to Florence again as 
 soon as she had seen to the packing of his mess- 
 chest and field-kit. The children were to be 
 allowed to sit up and see the regiment off. 
 Merriam supposed when taps came that by this 
 time Mrs. Hayne was with Florence, but all 
 the same he left the guard in charge of the 
 sergeant a few minutes and hurried away over 
 the parade and up to her room, and there he
 
 AM ARMY WIFE. 155 
 
 found her lying almost as he had left her 
 face downward upon the sofa, and all 
 alone. 
 
 Throwing aside his belt and sabre, Randy 
 knelt by her side and strove gently to turn her 
 toward him. 
 
 " Have you no welcome for me even now, 
 my little girl?" he murmured. " Do you real 
 ize this is the first trouble that has ever come 
 between us, and that I'm being very, very 
 much abused for something that is no fault of 
 mine?" His tone and manner were almost 
 playful, despite a certain soreness at heart he 
 could not quite ignore, but Floy resisted and 
 was silent. " I have only a moment or two, 
 my wife," he presently continued, gravely and 
 sadly. "You are soldier enough to know I 
 should not be away from my guard even now, 
 but my heart yearned over you, Florence, in 
 your illness and distress, and I had to steal a 
 moment. Won't you come into my arms a 
 little while, and let me kiss away the traces of 
 those foolish tears?" 
 
 Ah, who knows how much her heart, too, 
 may have been pleading with his pleading
 
 156 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 voice at the moment, yet the devil of her 
 jealous love kept rigid guard between them. 
 
 " I shall do very well," she answered, coldly. 
 " Mrs. Hayne was here and I told her not to 
 stay" pause then, "neither need you." 
 
 At first he could not believe his senses. 
 The wild outburst of a few hours before was 
 something easily accounted for in one so young 
 and passionate, but this cold, repellant, re 
 morseless refusal, this practical dismissal of 
 his proffer of love, comfort, and caresses, this 
 was something utterly unlike Florence. It 
 not only amazed, it stung him, and rising 
 slowly to his feet he stood one moment look 
 ing down at her in deep bewilderment, and 
 with no little effort curbing his tongue and 
 temper. The pretty wrapper she wore had 
 become disarranged, and the one slender, 
 slippered foot that projected from beneath its 
 shelter was tapping nervously the foot of the 
 sofa. Stifling a sigh, he looked about him, 
 took from a neighboring chair a heavy shawl 
 she had been using earlier in the day, and, 
 carefully spreading it over her so as to cover 
 even the rebellious foot, he quietly picked up
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 157 
 
 his sabre and as quietly walked to the door. 
 There, turning about, he looked back at her. 
 Without changing her position, she had calmly 
 stripped off the shawl with her right hand and 
 dropped it to the floor. The slippered foot 
 was still beating its nervous, irreconcilable 
 tattoo as he slowly descended the stairs. 
 
 She heard him let himself out into the night 
 and the clank of the scabbard against the gate 
 post and the tramp of his cavalry boot as he 
 crossed the road. He walked slowly, heavily 
 now, not eagerly as he came. Florence heard 
 and noted, and then her pride and resolution 
 gave away, and again she wept bitter, bitter, 
 yet not wholly penitent tears. 
 
 The waning moon was shining over the dim, 
 far-stretching desert to the east, and a little 
 torchlight procession was forming at the band 
 barracks, as Merriam recrossed the parade. 
 Each musician wore attached to his headgear 
 a bright little lamp, its reflector so arranged as 
 to throw the light full upon the sheet of music 
 in the rack of his instrument. It was nearly 
 time to form the regiment, and though the 
 band was not to go, it meant to " play the boys on
 
 158 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 to the cars," as the sergeant said. Whittaker, 
 longing for excitement of some kind, had gone 
 to Buxton and begged permission to turn out 
 his troop, mounted, and escort the Riflers to 
 the railway, and Bux said "no" with cheerful 
 and customary alacrity. All the same all the 
 post was up and mostly out of doors, thronging 
 about the edge of the parade, when adjutant's 
 call sounded and the two battalions came 
 swinging out in full marching order "cam 
 paign hats, blankets rolled, great-coats folded, 
 haversacks, canteens, and crammed cartridge 
 belts." There was but brief ceremony. The 
 colonel whipped out his sword and gave " Col 
 umn of fours," the rifles of the first company 
 leaned to the right shoulder, the band burst 
 forth into its liveliest strain, and, taking the 
 lead, the baton-beating drum-major at its head, 
 away they tramped for the southeast gate, and 
 all Fort Sedgwick seemed to follow. The 
 colonel spurred his way and jolted out in front 
 of the band, his adjutant at his heels. The 
 cadenced step and spirited music were kept 
 up until the hospital corps at the rear of column 
 was clear to the gate, then route step was
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 159 
 
 ordered, and then by twos and threes and little 
 squads and parties the throng of escorts came 
 drifting back, by far the larger portion veering 
 off to the right and taking the pathway toward 
 the barracks, while a long string of women and 
 children, with a few attendant officials, kept 
 the direct road, nearly westward, that ran in 
 front of the main line of officers' quarters. 
 Over at the guard-house the little handful of 
 armed soldiers had stood watching from afar 
 the formation and departure of the regiment, 
 and now, spreading their blankets, were settling 
 themselves for a brief nap before relieving the 
 sentries now slowly tramping their posts, and 
 Merriam, after one long look at the distant 
 row, vainly seeking for the bright light that 
 used to burn in her parlor window on previous 
 nights when he was on guard, turned into the 
 office of the guard-house with a heavy heart 
 and a weary sigh, and sat himself down to look 
 over the list of prisoners and the half-finished 
 report. 
 
 The midnight call of the sentries had started 
 as the Riflers marched away, but, between the 
 music and the cheers, seemed to get no further
 
 160 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 than the post of No. 2, and Corporal Mahoney 
 had gone to see if 3 and 4 were all right. 
 Silence was gradually settling down upon the 
 moonlit garrison, although voices of women 
 and children came floating faintly across the 
 dim parade, and out under the spectral white 
 flag-staff tiny sparks as of cigars could be seen, 
 and low, gruff voices were heard in consulta 
 tion. A moment or two more and the sentry 
 on No. i was bidden to call off half-past twelve, 
 and barely had he done so, and Merriam was 
 straining his ears for the answering cry of the 
 outlying posts, than a second time the sentry 
 let loose his voice and challenged sharply, 
 "Who comes there?" 
 
 " Commanding officer and friends," was the 
 answer in Buxton's growl. 
 
 " Halt ! Corpril the Guard commanding 
 officer and friends," answered No. i, and Mer 
 riam sprang to his feet, while the corporal went 
 bounding out to examine and receive the party. 
 
 "I want the officer of the guard," said Bux- 
 ton, impatient of etiquette or formality as he 
 bulged ahead. "Oh, Mr. Merriam, there must 
 be at least a hundred of our men gone tagging
 
 " Damn those infernal idiots ! "
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 161 
 
 along with the 'doughboys' in hopes of a round 
 of drinks at the Junction, probably. I want a 
 mounted patrol to go in at once and herd 'em 
 all back, otherwise some of them will be car 
 ried away on the train, sure as shooting. Just 
 give your stable sentry orders to let a dozen 
 horses out. I'll send Mr. Whittaker in com 
 mand ; he wanted to turn out and go as escort. 
 Lots of your men are in there, I suppose, Cap 
 tain Grafton," he concluded, as he turned to 
 the silent officer at his side. 
 
 " Half a dozen, possibly, sir, though I doubt 
 it. Do you wish horses and men from my 
 troop? If not, sir, I'll retire." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I do. I want three men and horses 
 from each troop good men, too. If I send a 
 squad from just one troop, those runagates will 
 be down on just that one company and we'll 
 be in hot water for a whole year." 
 
 Grafton silently touched his cap and turned 
 away. Far off to the southeast there was a 
 sound of cheering, and the band had struck up 
 some rollicking quickstep, whereat old Bux 
 gritted his teeth and swore anew. " Damn 
 
 those infernal idiots! Do you know what '11 
 ii
 
 1 62 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 be the result of this? The regiment will get 
 away on the train, and then that band instead 
 of coming back will go to Miguel's saloon, and 
 there they'll start a baile and have that whole 
 greaser population in there drinking mescal 
 and 'guardiente, and ripping and fighting until 
 everybody's beastly drunk. I wont have it, 
 sir!" and he glared at the officer of- the guard 
 as though he considered that silent official a 
 co-conspirator. " I wont have it, I say. I 
 wish Mr. Whittaker to start at once and round 
 up the whole gang." 
 
 And with that he strode portentously away 
 in the direction of headquarters, the orderly 
 following with a grin. Corporal Mahoney 
 came in from his round, reporting 3 and 4 all 
 right and everything secure. 
 
 "But there's one thing, sir: No. 2 can't begin 
 to see the length of his post, and with so many 
 private horses in the little stables back of the 
 row what's to prevent them beggars from 
 town running off half a dozen head? Once 
 across the mesa and into the Santa Clara coun 
 try there'd be no catching them." 
 
 " We must take the chances," said Merriam,
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 163 
 
 briefly. "The commanding officer will not 
 permit any increase of sentries." 
 
 Yet the corporal's warning made him think 
 of his own favorite saddle-horse and Floy's 
 pretty bay. She rode so well, so fearlessly, 
 tirelessly, that one of his very first gifts to her 
 had been this dainty little mare, swift and sure 
 footed as a greyhound, and about as wonderful 
 a jumper, and Florence gloried in her and in 
 the dashing rides they used to take. They 
 didn't mind the lack of shaded bridle-paths. 
 They scoured the plain full gallop, riding reck 
 lessly after the bounding jack-rabbits, and com 
 ing home all athrill and aglow with the glorious 
 exercise. But of late the rides had become 
 more sedate and slow and less frequent, and 
 then when Mrs. McLane proposed being of the 
 party Florence discovered Mignon to be sud 
 denly lame, and had a shoe removed and a 
 hoof poulticed, and Randy smiled but said 
 nothing. Mignon was surprised, perhaps, but 
 not Mr. Merriam. He was thinking of the un 
 protected condition of those stables back of offi 
 cers' row, where those gentlemen who owned 
 private stock were required to keep theirs,
 
 1 64 AJV ARMY WIFE. 
 
 instead of, as had been customary under a pre 
 vious administration, at the cavalry or quarter 
 master's corrals. The colonel of the Riflers 
 had once been knuckle-rapped for allowing 
 public forage to be fed to private "mounts" of 
 some garrison ladies, and now he had his eyes 
 open. The Freemans, Haynes, Graftons, and 
 Merriams, as well as the doctor, all had private 
 horses for ladies' use; so did certain others; 
 and although every mounted officer could 
 draw forage for two horses, not a peck of oats 
 could he get beyond that, and when it came to 
 forage for ladies' horses animals never ridden 
 or driven except by ladies, and too light for 
 government service, the colonel drew the line 
 at that entirely, and was sustained by a virtu 
 ous Congress. 
 
 So Randy had to buy forage for Mignon, and 
 luckily forage was cheap, with all those ranches 
 of Santa Clara close at hand. He had often 
 thought how easy it would be for greasers 
 natural horse-thieves to sneak in on that 
 southern front of a dark night and make off 
 with four or five favorite horses, and the colonel 
 used to keep three sentries along there. Now
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 165 
 
 they had only one. "All the more reason for 
 my keeping personal watch on that front," 
 thought Randy, "and that will give me an 
 occasional chance to look in on Florence." 
 
 One o'clock came, and the call had gone 
 from sentry to sentry, thanks to the breathless 
 stillness of the air, and the moon was climbing 
 high, and Bux was still up and swearing. A 
 "wire" came out from the Junction that the 
 " special" would not be there for two hours, so 
 the Riflers had stacked arms, unslung packs, 
 and were snoozing or skylarking as suited their 
 humor. The colonel had given permission for 
 a dance at Miguel's. The band was playing, 
 and there was jollity in the wind. Bux said 
 he wouldn't have the cavalry mixed up in any 
 such tomfoolery, however, and the patrol was 
 saddled and ready to start. Grafton, coming 
 back from his stable, where he had gone to 
 personally see to the selection of the mounts 
 required, stopped and drew Merriam to one 
 side. 
 
 " I'm sorry for the needless trouble you took 
 this evening, Merriam. I had hoped that Mrs. 
 McLane would see you and have done with it.
 
 1 66 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Another dispatch came for her three hours ago, 
 and it seems to have roused her to action. She 
 was up and dressed in time to see the regiment 
 off, and now, I presume, she's flirting with 
 Whittaker. There are lights in the parlor. 
 At all events the orderly hasn't found him, 
 and Bux may send you after the stragglers in 
 town." . 
 
 "Then I reckon I'll start and make the 
 rounds and get out of the way," said Randy. 
 "By the way, captain, I hope your private 
 stable is well secured. We have only one 
 sentry on that whole front now, and that 
 matched team of yours is a powerful tempta 
 tion to Bravo horse-fanciers. I mean to make 
 two or three trips around the row to-night." 
 
 " Well, then I can save you several hundred 
 yards, Merriam," said Graf ton, fumbling in his 
 pocket. " Take the short cut through my yard. 
 There are no private horses between me and 
 the east end of the line, you know. Here's 
 the key to the rear gate." 
 
 Merriam took it and thanked him heartily. 
 
 "I'll go to the corrals first," said he, "and 
 then come over your way. Good-night."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 167 
 
 The lights were still burning dimly in the 
 parlor as Grafton reached his quarters, but the 
 slender form of a woman stood between him 
 and the door. It was Mrs. McLane, and she 
 began at once. 
 
 " I have been waiting anxiously for you, 
 captain. Dear Harriet has gone to her room 
 tired out, and I thought Mr. Whittaker would 
 never go I fairly had to send him. Mr. Mer- 
 riam is officer of the guard. Could I see him 
 could you take me to him for just a min 
 ute? If I can talk with him three minutes it 
 will be ample, and I cannot rest now until 
 I do." 
 
 Grafton was on the point of bidding her re 
 member that she had refused a chance of talk 
 ing with him earlier that night, but refrained. 
 He looked back across the sallow, moonlit 
 surface of the parade to where the oil-lamps 
 were burning blearily in the guard-room. " He 
 is not there," said he. " He has gone down to 
 the corrals. But a happy thought striking 
 him '"in less than ten minutes he will becom 
 ing through here on his rounds. I gave him 
 the key of our rear gate. It's warm and pleas-
 
 1 68 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 ant out here. You might hail and halt him as 
 he enters." 
 
 Meantime there had been a sore, sore hearted 
 young wife farther up the row. As wrath and 
 passion sobbed themselves away and the devil 
 of jealousy wore itself out, and the thought of 
 Randy's patience and gentleness and of all 
 that Mrs. Hayne had said of his unflagging 
 tenderness and love, poor Florence began to 
 wonder if she had not angered him beyond 
 repair. His last act had been one of fond, 
 thoughtful care. He had spread the shawl 
 over her and lingered over it as though he 
 loved to touch her, mad, miserable, ugly, hate 
 ful as she had been, and she had spitefully 
 thrown it off. She picked it up now and strove 
 to arrange it as he had done, but could not. 
 She arose and bathed her face and eyes, and 
 gazed out over the now deserted parade. She 
 had not even stirred when the Riflers marched 
 away. She paced the floor again and felt that 
 she was weak, and became conscious that she 
 was most unromantically hungry, and then 
 Oh, heavens ! how could she ! how could she 
 have forgotten? Here was Randy on guard,
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 169 
 
 up all night, and never before since they came 
 back from their wedding tour had she failed 
 when he was officer of the guard to have a 
 delightful little chafing-dish supper all ready 
 for him at twelve o'clock, and he used to come 
 over from his duties for half an hour and eat 
 with such an appetite and praise her welsh 
 rarebit, or her oysters, and then take her in 
 his arms with such love and delight in his fond 
 eyes, and here and here it was one o'clock 
 and she'd utterly forgotten it. Oh, poor Randy 
 must be starving! 
 
 In ten minutes Mrs. Merriam had bundled 
 up her dishevelled hair, donned some more 
 becoming gown than the tumbled wrapper, and 
 had bustled down-stairs and lighted the parlor 
 lamp to signal Randy to come home and be fed 
 and forgiven, and then she ransacked the cup 
 board and started her fire, and then peeped 
 over toward the distant guard-room and saw 
 no sign of his coming. She trotted through 
 the kitchen and banged lustily at Hop Ling's 
 door and bade him rise and go summon his 
 master, but the menial answered not. He, 
 too, had slipped away to the Junction not so
 
 1 70 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 much to see the Riflers off as to have a shy at 
 fan-tan, and Florence was alone. Never mind. 
 She had been born and reared in garrison. 
 No one could teach her the ins and outs of 
 post life. Why shouldn't she run across the 
 wide, dimly lighted flat and surprise her dar 
 ling at his desk, and bid him come home with 
 her and let her twine herself about him, and 
 have a happier cry as she told him how weak 
 and wicked and cruel and hateful she had been, 
 and beg to be taken back into his love and 
 trust. Yes, yes, well she knew that he was too 
 noble, too grand to treat her sternly, coldly, 
 because of her tempestuous outbreak. It was 
 all because she loved him so loved him so 
 that it was torture to think any other woman 
 could claim or hold or even attract him. With 
 brightening eyes, with bounding heart, she 
 threw over her head and shoulders a light 
 wrap and stepped out on the piazza. Some 
 body was coming across the parade from the 
 guard-house even now. He was still too far 
 away to be recognized, but as he halted one 
 minute and turned as though to listen to the 
 sentries just beginning to call half-past one,
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 171 
 
 the moonlight glinted on the steel scabbard, 
 and she knew it must be Randy. Then he 
 was coming to her after all, and she need not 
 have to seek him and be the first to " make up," 
 as she used to say in girlish days. The call 
 went round with echoing ring, and then on 
 came her lover husband again. How she 
 loved that martial stride of his! How erect 
 and strong and soldierly he seemed ! How 
 why he wasn't coming straight to her. 
 He had reached the flagstaff. There lay the 
 beaten pathway right before his eyes and hers. 
 He must see the bright lights of his home bid 
 ding him come and find love and welcome. But 
 he had turned away was walking, not toward 
 the west end, but straight for the middle of the 
 row, straight to where the Graftons lived - 
 where that woman lived. 
 
 But that meant nothing. Oh, no ! Florence 
 well knew that meant nothing. Had he not 
 said only a little while before that never would 
 he see or speak with her without coming first 
 to his wife, his Florence, and letting her know? 
 Yet, why should he go thither, at this hour of 
 the night? That was not the way to the sentry
 
 172 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 posts. Unconsciously she approached the edge 
 of the piazza she saw him reach the roadway 
 saw him cross it saw him Merciful God ! 
 could she believe her eyes? saw him enter 
 what must be the Graf tons' gate and then be 
 come lost in the shadows of the row. Hardly 
 knowing what she did, Florence sped madly 
 down the steps, out through the gate and, 
 almost running, down eastward along the walk. 
 Nearing the Graftons', she pressed her hand to 
 her heart to still its mad pounding, and as 
 she came opposite the parlor window she noted 
 that the lamps were burning dimly, late as it 
 was. Could he have entered? Breathless, 
 dazed, she clung to the picket fence for sup 
 port, not knowing what to do next, and then 
 the blood seemed to turn to ice in her veins, 
 for somewhere, close at hand, just beyond 
 those sheltering vines she heard voices, his 
 voice and hers, low-toned, earnest, ah ! passion 
 ate for she heard her murmur " Oh, Randy, 
 Randy!" and, stepping quickly forward, saw 
 her just around the corner of the trellis, appar 
 ently clinging to his arm, the two dim figures 
 seemingly linked together, blending in one
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 173 
 
 vague, indistinguishable, yet damning shape, 
 and then all grew dark to her, as though a pall 
 had been dropped from the starry heavens, 
 hiding from sight the sin and woe of a reeling 
 world.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "MRS. McLANE," Merriam was saying at the 
 moment, interrupting the pleading, weeping 
 woman who was clinging to his arm, "it is 
 useless to talk of it. Had you let me know 
 why you wished to see me, all the pain of this 
 meeting could have been avoided. Every 
 paper I had was given to Mr. Parry, your law 
 yer, months ago. I know less about the mat 
 ter, probably, than you do ; and now, forgive 
 me, but I must go at once." 
 
 Almost forcibly he drew her clasping hands 
 from his arm, and turning sharply and without 
 another word to the cringing woman, hastened 
 on through the narrow pathway that led be 
 tween Graf ton's cottage and that to the east 
 ward, and presently emerged again into the 
 moonlight at the back of the house, going 
 straight to the captain's stable. For a moment 
 his late companion stood there at the trellis, 
 staring after him in mingled misery and in-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 175 
 
 credulity. She had planned it well. She had 
 marked his coming just as Grafton had said, 
 had hurried down to the shadowy aisle between 
 the quarters and halted him there astonished 
 at her daring. He would have walked a dozen 
 miles that night rather than see her at all, but 
 to meet her this way, to feel that he was 
 trapped, made Merriam's blood boil with 
 wrath. His voice, though, was stern and cold 
 as he bade her say why she wished to see him. 
 But her aim was to detain, to soften, to charm 
 and then to plead, and she had a dreadful, 
 dreadful story to tell and none to tell it to but 
 him. Even then she was balked, for Merriam 
 bluntly bade her omit the story, as he knew all 
 he needed to know, and come to the point at 
 once. What could she want of him? Advice 
 sympathy, she cried; and for advice he re 
 ferred her to her lawyer for sympathy she 
 must not come to him. She must have some 
 purpose in calling on him what was it? And 
 then it proved to be the packet with certain 
 papers, given him by the young miner in the 
 Mescalero. " It was turned over to your law 
 yer long ago," said Randy; and then she burst
 
 I7<5 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 into tears and said she was undone, and wailed, 
 "Oh, Randy, Randy! what can I what am I 
 to do?" And he suggested gravely, courte 
 ously, but positively, that she should at once 
 go indoors, while he went on his way. 
 
 His heart was bitter against her as he strode 
 out beyond the fence line, and, after carefully 
 inspecting the doors of Graf ton's stable, he 
 closed and locked the gate. He wished now 
 more than ever to hurry on westward and enter 
 his own little home and surprise Florence. 
 With grateful eyes he had noted the parlor 
 lights and interpreted them as indicating that 
 she must be well over the unreasoning stage of 
 this her first, and, he prayed God, her last, jeal 
 ous trouble. He turned toward his own gate, 
 intending only to glance at the other stables on 
 the way and give the sentry additional orders ; 
 but when he got so far toward the western end 
 of the row as to enable him to distinguish any 
 object as big as a man he found to his vexa 
 tion that there was no sentry there at all, and 
 that he must retrace his steps and look for him 
 toward the other end. It was a backward 
 tramp of over three hundred yards, and he was
 
 " Come right along."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 1 77 
 
 irritated enough to feel like scoring the sentry 
 when finally he came upon him. 
 
 " You shouldn't be here, sir," he began after 
 the customary challenge and reply. " Where 
 you are most needed is along toward the other 
 end, where there are private horses in flimsy 
 stables." 
 
 "I know, sir," said the soldier promptly, 
 "but there's something amiss out there on 
 the road toward town. I heard a scuffle and 
 cries for help, and then a running down into 
 the creek bottom. The corporal's gone out 
 to see. I'm afraid there's been blood spilt, 
 sir." 
 
 And even as they stood and listened, the 
 still night air was split by the loud report of a 
 carbine, echoed back from the opposite wall of 
 the shallow, narrow canon. It was followed 
 almost instantly by a cry for aid. 
 
 " Come right along," shouted Merriam to the 
 sentry, and he sprang away in the direction of 
 the alarm. " Never mind your post!" 
 
 A run of nearly four hundred yards, cross 
 ing diagonally the Junction road as they ran, 
 brought the lieutenant to the edge of the 
 
 12
 
 1 78 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 chasm, at a point where one could see some 
 distance down the stream, the sentry panting 
 several rods behind. The moonlight was 
 faint, but still sufficient to enable him to make 
 out the form of a man apparently crawling on 
 hands and knees up the bank, while another 
 lay motionless close to the water's edge. Over 
 this latter Corporal Mahoney was bending, im 
 ploring in grief-stricken tones. Randy went 
 bounding down the abrupt slope, sure-footed 
 as a goat. 
 
 "What's the matter, corporal? What is 
 it?" 
 
 "Brady, sir stabbed to death, I'm 'fraid. 
 There was three of 'em on him, and more at 
 poor Corcoran yonder Mexicans all of 'em, 
 and they lit out straight for that monte shack 
 across the mesa. Their horses are there, I 
 reckon. Look up, Brady, man, for God's 
 sake! Here's the lieutenant come to help." 
 
 Merriam knelt, threw open the blue blouse 
 and placed his hand over the heart, waited a 
 moment and shook his head. His hand was 
 dripping with blood as he drew it out. " All 
 over with poor Brady, I fear," said he. " Run
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 1)9 
 
 quick. No. 2 followed me out. Tell him to 
 hurry for the surgeon and send the litter from 
 the hospital. Who fired?" 
 
 " I did, sir. I hoped to bring down one of 
 the gang, but they were too far off," answered 
 the corporal, as he was pulling himself up the 
 bank. 
 
 Turning away from the stricken soldier and 
 dabbling for a moment his hand in the stream, 
 Randy called to Corcoran, the other victim, 
 who was groaning and cursing alternately, and 
 who presently burst into maudlin tears, de 
 manding to be given a chance to stand up 
 against the damned greasers again, that he 
 might annihilate the entire party. It was evi 
 dent that a subtler enemy had downed him 
 even before the Mexican took hold. He was 
 only slightly injured physically, but his mon 
 ey was gone. All Randy could extract from 
 him was that there had been a game and he 
 wouldn't pay up because the greasers were 
 cheating, and they chased him and Brady, and 
 overtook them and used their knives. 
 
 Buxton was still up and full of his project of 
 sending the patrol for absentees and the band,
 
 i8o AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 just as soon as the Riflers' train should have 
 started. He heard the call for the surgeon 
 and promptly turned out in person. The 
 sleepy horses of the patrol were standing 
 meekly and wonderingly at the guard-house 
 when the distant shot was fired, and, borrowing 
 one, the sergeant galloped out. When Bux 
 appeared he borrowed another and one for the 
 surgeon. Then, after hearing Merriam's brief 
 recital, he ordered him to mount forthwith, 
 take the entire patrol and gallop in chase of 
 the greasers. 
 
 There was no difficulty in learning at the 
 wretched shack at the edge of the reservation 
 which way they had gone. Nine at least were 
 in the party, and the hoof-tracks led away 
 southwestward across the flat until they struck 
 the line of the railway, two miles west of the 
 Junction. Here there seemed to have been a 
 brief halt, discussion, possibly a divide, and a 
 split. Two horses had crossed the track and 
 gone south ; the others, veering westward, had 
 "lit out" for the Santa Clara, and Randy Mer- 
 riam, a trifle hungry now, was wishing with all 
 his heart he had gone first to Florence and left
 
 AN ARMY WIF. 181 
 
 the inspection of the stables until afterward. 
 It was somewhere about two o'clock when they 
 started. The men were booted and spurred, 
 but Merriam was in ordinary trousers, and the 
 troop horse he rode was quick to find the spur 
 was gone and slow to mind the heel. The 
 McClellan saddle, too, with its upright pom 
 mel and cantle worried him after the ease of 
 his own Whitman. When dawn came he was 
 well-nigh ready to give up the chase after 
 fording the Santa Clara and finding the trail 
 had turned northwestward, when a sharp-eyed 
 trooper swore he could see the quarry making 
 for the foothills and not two miles ahead ; so 
 Merriam borrowed a single spur and pushed 
 vehemently, vigorously on. 
 
 Then broad daylight came, and there could 
 be no doubt they were gaining. The chase 
 was hot. The pursued were tossing off saddle 
 bags, riatas, and other detachable horse-furni 
 ture to lighten their weight, but they stuck to 
 their guns and ammunition. Merriam's men 
 were considerably strung out, not more than 
 six being well up within supporting distance, 
 when the fact that they were in range of the
 
 182 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 greasers was demonstrated by the zip and sing 
 of a bullet close alongside. 
 
 "That's business," muttered the trooper 
 who rode close on his left rear. " Shall I try 
 a shot, sir?" 
 
 Merriam shook his head. The situation had 
 few points in its favor. Obedient to his orders 
 to pursue and capture the gang, Randy had 
 ridden hard, yet over many a mile had he 
 asked himself the question Suppose they re 
 sist arrest, what's to be done? He had no 
 warrant. He was not even a deputy sheriff, 
 not even the humblest constituent of a posse 
 comitatus. If he or his men returned their 
 fire and shot some of these unnatural natural 
 ized voters and citizens, like as not an indict 
 ment for murder would be hanging over his 
 head, if not hanging him in the course of a 
 fortnight. True, there was no sheriff within 
 seventy miles, and long before the civil au 
 thorities could be brought into play the mur 
 derers of Brady would be scattered all over the 
 face of the earth. All the same, under the 
 strict interpretation of the civil law, Lieuten 
 ant Merriam knew that he and his people had
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 183 
 
 no more business trying to arrest these rene 
 gades than they had to vote at a territorial 
 election. In point of fact, like many another 
 officer and man, soldier of Uncle Sam on the 
 broad frontier, he was aware of the fact that 
 even a horse-thief had more civil rights than 
 the trooper. His expedition, therefore, in the 
 eye of the law was nothing more nor less than 
 a lawless dash, winding up in a possible free 
 fight, and all against the peace and dignity of 
 the people of New Mexico. Perhaps Buxton 
 knew this too, but the orders he gave were 
 peremptory, and Merriam never stopped to 
 reply, reason why, or expostulate. But now 
 when the renegades began to shoot the reason 
 ing why had to be done. His men were hot 
 for battle so was he but the nation expects 
 of its officers that, no matter what the tempta 
 tion, provocation, or exasperation, they keep 
 cool heads and tempers, only shoot when the 
 law permits, but then shoot to kill. No claim 
 of self-defense could be allowed. They were 
 the pursuing and therefore the attacking party, 
 and though these Mexicans were followed red- 
 handed, hot-footed, there could be no question
 
 1 84 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 what a civil jury would say if any of their 
 dingy hides were punctured by the balls of a 
 brutal soldiery. 
 
 Zip bang! a second shot. Bing-g-g-g 
 wrrrrr bang! another, and Corporal Butts 
 ducked his head and damned, and Trooper 
 Mullen's charger squealed and lunged and 
 kicked viciously with the seam of a bullet 
 scathing his flank and ploughing the haunch. 
 They were closing on the ruffians fast, then, 
 and the temptation was overpowering. " I 
 can't ride my men in to be shot down like 
 dogs," growled Randy. " In for a penny, in 
 for a pound. They started it anyway," 
 he said to himself, then turned in saddle 
 and waved high his forage-cap. "Close 
 up! Close up, men!" he cried, meaning 
 to draw rein, slacken speed a bit, and get 
 all his party together before closing for ac 
 tion. The Mexicans were plainly winded. 
 Their half-starved brutes had carried them 
 under bloody spurring as far as they could and 
 were now barely staggering along. What 
 their riders dreaded was summary stringing up 
 to the railway telegraph-poles if captured.
 
 *' 7"^# turned in his saddle and waved high his ftat."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 185 
 
 Better die fighting, said the leader, and fight 
 it was. 
 
 They were close to the entrance of a little 
 ravine that set in among the barren slopes 
 from the open ground to the east. All the 
 way from the Santa Clara the ascent had been 
 gradual but distinctly marked, and just as the 
 foremost rider spurred around the shoulder of 
 the hillside his panting broncho stumbled, went 
 down, rolled helplessly over and lay there 
 dead to kicks, curses, or blows. Three of the 
 gang lashed onward, leaving their countryman 
 to his fate, but two of them, better nerved, 
 reined up, alighted, and, throwing themselves 
 flat upon the ground, opened again a rapid and 
 telling fire from their Winchesters. "Mira! 
 el Teniente," was the word, linked with a sav 
 age Spanish curse that hissed from the black 
 lips of the nearest, and in an instant Merriam 
 became the target for the sharp fire of three 
 magazine rifles, famous for their accuracy at 
 no greater distance than the four hundred 
 yards that now separated them-. Almost 
 before he could realize it Randy felt a sharp 
 sting just at the outer edge of his bridle arm,
 
 1 86 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 and knew that the blood gushed from the 
 wound. Then all of a sudden his poor troop 
 horse plunged heavily forward, and, groaning 
 and struggling, went down in a heap, bearing 
 his rider helplessly with him. 
 
 Two minutes more, as some of the men dis 
 mounted and with rapid and effective fire scat 
 tered the Mexicans to shelter within the ra 
 vine, Corporal Butts and a trooper succeeded 
 in pulling Merriam free from the madly lash 
 ing, struggling, stricken brute, and then it was 
 found that their pallid, speechless leader had 
 received some serious injury. All the breath 
 was knocked out of his bod)'- and the bridle arm 
 was broken midway between the wrist and el 
 bow. That ended the chase. Four or five 
 men, it is true, took advantage of the fact that 
 the lieutenant was knocked out to dash ahead 
 and have a personal affair with the greasers, 
 and later in the day, when, after a long, long 
 ride, Trooper Mullen reached a friendly ranchr 
 man on the Santa Clara and had him send out 
 his spring wagon for the wounded officer, 
 these enthusiasts came drifting back, there was 
 reason for belief that their ammunition had
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 187 
 
 not been entirely spent in vain. But it was 
 a worn-out, used-up detachment, escorting a 
 two-wheeled, improvised ambulance, that re- 
 crossed the Santa Clara late that afternoon 
 and was met there by the assistant surgeon. 
 
 " I hope you saw Mrs. Merriam before you 
 started," was Randy's faint greeting. "She 
 wasn't much worried, was she? I tried to 
 scrawl a line or two, and we made the mes 
 senger swear I was only lamed by the fall of 
 the horse. You saw her didn't you?" 
 
 "No o," hesitated the doctor, "I didn't, 
 Merriam. You see there wasn't time. You 
 know how it is with old Bux. Steady with 
 that stretcher there, steward. Just let me 
 slip this support under the lieutenant's 
 shoulder. You know Bux insisted on my 
 starting instantly." 
 
 " But who took my note to her then ? Who 
 went to her?" persisted Randy. " It it would 
 never do to have her frightened now doc 
 tor." 
 
 "Oh, that'll be all right, Randy. Don't 
 worry about that. I'm sure what she has 
 heard hasn't hurt her. Mrs. o, yes, Mrs,
 
 l88 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Hayne was over at your house when I came 
 away." 
 
 " Thank God for that !" murmured poor Ran 
 dy, as he took the drink the doctor gave him. 
 " Heaven bless that dear woman, anyhow. 
 Now get me home as soon as you can, old 
 fellow." 
 
 But the whispered caution to the driver, 
 given as the doctor reappeared and, mounting, 
 rode alongside, was, "Go slow slow as you 
 can." Then to the hospital attendant who 
 had ridden out with him he muttered, " Now 
 ride ahead, Parks, and see if there's any news."
 
 Then Mrs. Buxton ventured to fire a shot"
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHEN Florence regained strength enough 
 to move she crept slowly back to her little 
 parlor, where the beacon lights that were to 
 summon her husband were still faithfully, 
 fruitlessly burning. She looked in at the din 
 ing-room and its preparation for cheer and 
 welcome, and turned away with a shiver of 
 disgust, and then, with a moan of pathetic 
 misery, threw herself into an armchair and 
 tried to think. What should she do? What 
 could she do? Her love for Randy was so 
 fond, so glowing, that she had gifted him with 
 the qualities of a god, leaning upon him in 
 everything, trusting him in everything, relying 
 upon his word as though it were a pledge from 
 on high ; and yet within these few hours he 
 had, all unasked, given her his promise not to 
 see or speak with that woman again except 
 he came first to her his wife and told her 
 
 the need; then had gone secretly, almost di- 
 189
 
 l<)6 AN ARMY WIF. 
 
 rectly, to meet his old love in the shadows of 
 the night long after the hour that usually saw 
 the last light extinguished along officers' row. 
 If her old friend from baby days, the colo 
 nel, had come to her and said that Randy was 
 false; if her idol, her beloved father, had 
 added his confirmation of the colonel's views, 
 she would have laughed them down so long 
 as Randy her hero Randy swore that he 
 was true. Many a woman will stand by her 
 lover against a world in evidence, yet turn to 
 stone against him when she sees one apparent 
 sign of interest in another. Poor girl! He 
 was her first, her only love. He was hers and 
 only hers, and should be only hers, for when 
 that other creature had scorned and denied 
 him, had he not been brought sore-stricken to 
 her doors? Had she not won him back to life 
 through the wealth and glory of her own un 
 suspected love? From the day of their wed 
 ding until this woman came never had she 
 known a wish that was not his. Day and 
 night she dreamed, planned, and thought for 
 him, sought only to make herself worthier his 
 love, dearer to his eyes sweeter to his caress.
 
 AN ARMY WIF&. 191 
 
 Who was there to compare with him in manli 
 ness, in courtesy, in knightly bearing? What 
 officer was the peer of Randy what officer 
 even in the dear old Riflers with whom had 
 been her home from baby days? They chided 
 her, some of the girls, in what they called her 
 defection. " You used to say there could be no 
 regiment like the Riflers, Floy. You used to 
 vow you'd never marry out of the old regi 
 ment." "Aye, but that was before Randy 
 came," was her simple answer, and then they 
 told her Randy was "her world, and proudly 
 she answered, " I believe he is." They warned 
 her some of the older and wiser matrons 
 and God knows they had much on which to 
 base their views it was never safe to love any 
 man too much, even Randy; to which she an 
 swered with sunshine in her eyes, " How could 
 one love Randy too much?" Mind you, she 
 never volunteered these overflowings of her 
 heart, but these woman had been her friends 
 from her earliest days. She was still shy, 
 even with him, but such well-meant warnings 
 always seemed to put her on the defensive, as 
 it were, and, poor child, she believed it her
 
 192 AM ARMY IVIFE. 
 
 duty to her husband that she should never al 
 low him to go undefended, even though the 
 attack were intangible as a woman's sneer. 
 And they looked so well together, and he was 
 so proud of her, so devoted to her, " so con 
 scious of her," as some one said. Nowhere in 
 that garrison was there man or woman who 
 was able to say that Randy had not borne him 
 self as an almost ideal lover and husband ever 
 since that sun-kissed wedding day. Many 
 could even feel a sense of what is called 
 "agreeable disappointment," which always 
 strikes me as a phraseological parallel for that 
 other remarkable euphemism of so many of 
 our countrywomen "she's enjoying poor 
 health." Yet withal, Florence had the sym 
 pathy, the genuine affection of all Fort Sedg- 
 wick, even in or rather notwithstanding 
 her enthusiastic estimate of Randy's qualities 
 as husband and as man, and her own extreme 
 beatitude as wife. Then Mrs. Buxton ven 
 tured to fire a shot, as she stood watching 
 them strolling homeward together after par 
 ade one evening, absorbed in one another, and 
 to observe to her own supremely indifferent
 
 " You always call when I'm washing."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 193 
 
 lord, "There now, Bux, there's another girl 
 making a fool of herself over a man, only 
 she's the sweetest fool I ever knew in my 
 born days." 
 
 Bux himself roared it out for Floy's benefit 
 not long after, and did it so that half Fort 
 Sedgwick heard it, for the one valuable qual 
 ity Bux possessed as a cavalry officer was his 
 voice. The volume of sound he could produce 
 when bellowing instructions to a regimental 
 skirmish-line was something prodigious, but of 
 so rasping and exasperating a timbre that his 
 old-time derider, Blake, likened it in force to 
 a fog-horn and in staying power to boiled cab 
 bage not a neat comparison but one expressly 
 fitting. 
 
 And now, strangely enough, this maddest of 
 nights poor Florence could not get those 
 words and that tone out of her head. She 
 had flushed and turned speechless away at the 
 time, hurt to her soul and indignant, too, 
 but the training of her youth was strong. 
 These were people her father and mother 
 had taught her to respect, and though angry, 
 indignant, remonstrance was in her heart, 
 13
 
 194 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 she stifled the words that strove to spring to 
 her lips. 
 
 "I expect I've put my foot in it again to 
 day," reported Bux to his better-half, when he 
 got home. 
 
 "Well, I'm sure P m never surprised," was 
 the lady's prompt reply. 
 
 "I fear I've been rude to Colonel Buxton, 
 Randy," faltered Floy, when that gentleman 
 came in from troop drill an hour later. 
 
 "You couldn't be rude even to Bux, my dar 
 ling," was his answer, as he folded her in his 
 arms. 
 
 And these are not types of the "first year 
 wedded" and the " quarter-century mated" love 
 as seen in the army. I have known many 
 and many a couple who have risen together 
 through every grade in the line, loved, lov 
 ing, and lovers to the end. 
 
 At one o'clock Florence had set her lights 
 in the parlor window. At two, with that 
 booming, gong-like sound reverberating in 
 her ears, that incessant repetition of Buxton 's 
 coarse words, she had sprung from the chair in 
 which she had been brooding, writhing, shud-
 
 AM ARMY WIFE. 195 
 
 dering for half an hour, and then, tearing down 
 the shade, close looping the curtains, she hur 
 ried to the hall and locked and bolted the 
 door. " Another girl making a fool of herself 
 for a man another girl!" God! how the 
 words rang resounded through her brain, 
 buzzed and whirred like angry wasps in her 
 ears, hissed and rattled, aye, stung like the 
 venomous reptiles she had learned to shun 
 from early childhood. " Making a fool of her 
 self for a man who would leave her so soon 
 for that painted yes that padded thing!" 
 They'd soon learn that an army-bred girl 
 loved, indeed, with all her heart and soul, but 
 could hate, hate, hate as well ! 
 
 Wild-eyed, with beating heart, she rushed 
 through the little dining-room to the dark 
 kitchen beyond and rapped imperiously at a 
 door. "Hop Ling!" she cried, "up, I need 
 you." No answer. "The brute," she mur 
 mured to herself, as she threw herself heavily 
 upon the door, and it flew open and plunged 
 her in. The Chinaman's little sanctum was 
 deserted. She kept no maid. One schooled 
 Chinaman easily and efficiently did all the
 
 196 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 housework of a lieutenant's humble quarters 
 and was generally employed in that capacity 
 in almost every garrison of the far West. She 
 flew to the rear door and locked that, then up 
 to the second story where were the pretty 
 guest-rooms as well as their own hers and 
 Randy's, with all their closets and nooks and 
 corners. She took one rapid survey through 
 them, and then one fierce, wild look at herself 
 in the mirror of her dainty dressing-table. 
 Are you Floy Tremaine? Are you the little 
 girl who was reared in the Riflers? Are you 
 to make a lifelong fool for any man? And as 
 she spoke she began to open the dress she had 
 been wearing for Randy's benefit. The folds 
 of the stylish skirt, one of Mrs. Hayne's plan 
 ning when in Chicago, were tossed in reckless 
 disorder upon the snowy coverlet of the bed, 
 and her precious locket Randy's locket was 
 as suddenly unclasped from the round, white 
 throat, and in all the tumult in her soul she 
 heard no sound of the sudden stir and sortie 
 at the guard-house. She never knew that 
 there was no sentry faithful to his watch along 
 the rear of officers' row, to take up and pass
 
 " /I re you Flo Tremaine ? "
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 197 
 
 on the stirring, reassuring cry that no army 
 girl can hear without rejoicing or miss with 
 out alarm "Two o'clock and all's well." 
 
 The dawn was breaking over the far Jornada 
 and turning the distant Guadaloupe into gold 
 when the Riflers rolled away officers and 
 men, "barring the band and Company 'Ike'* 
 at Sedgwick," as the cavalry trumpeter re 
 marked to the gunner when they were going 
 out to stir the echoes with their reveille ; only 
 these at Sedgwick, and one stalwart old cap 
 tain with his devoted half -hundred, Tremaine, 
 still doing duty at the cantonment fond, lone 
 ly old father, whose heart was wrapped up in 
 that one child, yet could not deny her to the 
 man she loved so well. Sedgwick was begin 
 ning to yawn and stir. The night owls in the 
 canons were hooting back to their nests, dis 
 mayed by the howlings of the human night 
 
 * By War Department order a few years ago Companies 
 "I" and "K" of each regiment of Infantry were "skele 
 tonized" by transfer of their men to other companies, leav 
 ing those two merely paper commands. Just as " Co. Q" has 
 been for years the derisive title of the guard-house prison 
 ers, so does "Co. Ike" begin to appear as a name for the 
 .bereaved and friendless .commands .referred to.
 
 198 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 owls tacking home to duty, already half regret 
 ful of the whiskey wasted, while before them 
 was that remorseless wrath to come. The 
 cooks were astir in the barracks, and filmy 
 smoke-veils were sailing straight aloft from 
 the chimneys of half a dozen company kitch 
 ens. Already, too, the household servants 
 along the row of cavalry officers' quarters, that 
 which backed to the south, were lighting their 
 little morning blazes, for Sedgwick lay beyond 
 range and anthracite. In the good old days of 
 twenty years before, the cocktail, not coffee, 
 was the necessary prelude to reveille and 
 morning stables. Now, with the wisdom that 
 comes long after war, only case-hardened, red- 
 nosed, furrowed-cheeked, bandy-legged old 
 dragoons ever dreamed of a drink at that hour 
 of leap from sleep to life : the inner cavalry 
 man craves the juice of Mocha and mocks at 
 rye. From every "set" of cavalry quarters 
 then the kitchen chimney sent aloft its feath 
 ery plume, with one exception a subaltern's 
 house well over toward the western end of the 
 row ; and toward the gate thereof, edging away 
 from the ribald homeward-bound of the main
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 199 
 
 road and shuffling stolidly across the mesa, 
 Hop Ling was making his rapid way. Fan-tan 
 had gone against him, and but for his hands 
 his pockets were empty. Hop bore with him 
 an air of depression, and was followed by a 
 faint fragrance as of mandragora. His bleary 
 little eyes were seaching furtively along that 
 line of fence and stables for the gleam of the 
 sentry's carbine and cap ornaments. He must 
 place that watchman of the night and know 
 his ground before he entered post. 'Spose the 
 officer of the guard had happened to meet him 
 during the night. 'Spose somebody sick. 
 " Spose Misse Mellium she wanttee chow- 
 chow?" Bang! the morning gun roared its 
 lusty summons to be up and doing, and skulk 
 ing coyotes squatted lower as they sneaked 
 away from the outlying quarters, no chicken 
 the richer, and the guard turned out with 
 twenty additions to Company " Q" and more 
 still a-coming ; and the telegraph instrument in 
 the clerk's office began to call " Lalarrup La- 
 larrup Lalarrup," and the soldier operator, 
 washing his face in a tin basin outside, 
 glanced up and said, " You be damned ! YOU
 
 200 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 always call when I'm washing. What'n hell's 
 up now?" and had to drop ablutions and, 
 wringing his hands as he ran, to answer the 
 sharp, insistent summons ; and as he listened 
 his face grew keen and excited, and, checking 
 the rapid clicking of the key one instant, he 
 yelled to the drowsy clerk in the adjoining 
 office, " Billy quick ! Tumble up and see 
 if Lieutenant Merriam's back. I've a mes 
 sage for him," and then clicked and listened 
 and noted again ; but the reveille was chirrup 
 ing its merry music, and the sweet, cool, 
 morning air rang with the melody, and the 
 troopers were tumbling out from the barracks, 
 and ever across the parade officers came stalk 
 ing forth from their doorways, for the th 
 were sticklers about morning stables and roll 
 call ; and, most prominent figure of all, streak 
 ing across the mesa with pigtails and pajamas 
 a-flying, with his felt-bottomed boots fairly 
 flashing, with flaring eyes, distended for once 
 at least with mad appeal and dread in every 
 feature and shrill distress in his chattering 
 tones, came Hop Ling, straight for the guard 
 house and shrieking for "Mellium."
 
 AN ARMY WIPE. zor 
 
 A new officer of the guard, a scowling and 
 unresponsive man, turned from his survey of 
 the array of grinning prisoners, forgetting 
 their own troubles in the contemplation of 
 Hop's grotesque misery, and this new official, 
 Whittaker by name, sternly shouted, "Stop 
 your infernal noise, you clapper-jawed heathen. 
 What the devil's the matter?" 
 
 " Mellium ! Mellium !" was all poor Hop 
 could pant. 
 
 "Mr. Merriam isn't here," said Whittaker 
 majestically. 
 
 "Oh wha he gone? Misse Mellium gone! 
 She gone Minion allee gone!" 
 
 " Whew !" said Whittaker. " Sergeant, take 
 charge of the guard. I've got to go up to 
 Captain Graf ton's and report this. Come on 
 with me, you heathen," and, forgetful of the 
 officer of the day and only too ready to visit 
 Grafton's and bask under that window, the 
 lieutenant hastened away, Hop obediently and 
 hopefully following. Matters weren't so bad 
 perhaps, then, after all, thought he. Odd 
 though the freak might be, his master and 
 mistress might possibly have trotted away
 
 202 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 together for a very early morning ride and 
 would soon be back demanding breakfast. 
 
 But Grafton was out in an instant, and 
 together did the three hasten to the pretty 
 nest which Randy had so proudly furnished 
 for his bride. Hop ushered them to the dark, 
 empty parlor, then to the empty rooms above. 
 
 There on the unrumpled bed, just where she 
 had thrown them, were the garments Floy had 
 hastily discarded. There on the dressing- 
 table were toilet articles in wild disarray. 
 "She's heard in some way of his orders to 
 chase those damned greasers," said Whittaker 
 sullenly. He, who hated the name of Fanny 
 Hayward a year gone by for having jilted his 
 fondest friend, now well-nigh hated him be 
 cause the woman sought him again, and Whit- 
 taker knew it. 
 
 "We can soon tell," said Grafton briefly, 
 "by following her trail." 
 
 Down to the little stable they went; but 
 first Grafton stepped back into Randy's bath 
 and dressing-room. Yes, just as he thought, 
 there was a note stuck in Randy's mirror, but 
 no womanly little scrawl, no young wife's coo-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 203 
 
 ing confidence to her devoted mate. It was in 
 stout envelope, and the superscription, in a 
 hand that spread itself over the entire face, 
 was formal, indeed menacing: 
 
 LIEUTENANT MERRIAM. 
 Private 
 
 and personal. th Cavalry. 
 
 The captain's face grew quickly grave as he 
 came forth and closed the door behind him. 
 
 "Which way did Merriam head?" asked he 
 of Whittaker a moment later, as the three re- 
 gathered back of the line. 
 
 "Straight off to the southwest," said Whit- 
 taker, "and here go her tracks by Jove! 
 Straight away for the end of the row and 
 from there? ' 
 
 The two officers looked in each other's eyes 
 a moment, then strode hurriedly to the west 
 end of the line. Before them there broad 
 and far spreading, brave in the slanting sun 
 shine, the rolling reach of the mesa toward 
 the Santa Clara. Beyond that valley the 
 slow-rising stretch of desert toward the old, 
 old mission miles and miles away. Beyond
 
 204 AN ARMV WIFE. 
 
 all, the far foothills and glistening range of 
 the Mescalero. 
 
 But not toward these did Mignon's dainty 
 foot-tracks lead. Straight as the crow flies 
 they clipped the sandy barren when once well 
 out beyond the line and hearing of the west 
 ward sentry. Straight, swift, and sure, like 
 homing pigeon, Floy had evidently shaken 
 loose her rein and bade her pet and precious 
 bear her, swerving never, far at least as 
 strength would last, to where there was ever 
 waiting her the changeless love and pity and 
 protection of the sheltering arms at the old 
 cantonment, now her only hope of home.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "No word of this to anyone, Whittaker," 
 said Grafton, as they turned away. He was 
 beginning to see through it all. He knew 
 that two ladies of the garrison were calling at 
 his quarters just at that luckless hour near re 
 treat, when, as he had urged, Merriam went 
 thither and asked for Mrs. McLane. He knew 
 that they had left and gone on up the row 
 while his wife was expostulating with Fanny 
 aloft and Randy was waiting below. He knew 
 that one at least of their number would be sure 
 to tell what was occurring, not as a matter of 
 malice by any means, but simply because she 
 couldn't help telling anything and everything 
 that she saw and heard. He knew that sym 
 pathizing women were dropping in every few 
 minutes to see " dear Florrie" herself, if a pos 
 sible thing, or to inquire how she was, and he 
 
 quickly conjectured that one or more of these 
 205
 
 206 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 visitors had let fall the fatal observation. 
 What Grafton did not know was that such a 
 visitation had befallen after Florence had vir 
 tually asked Randy to tell where he had been, 
 and after his hapless failure to explain imme 
 diately the entire circumstances. It roused 
 the demon of her passionate nature to be told 
 the truth by other lips than his. But this in 
 itself, reasoned Grafton, was not enough to 
 drive Florence into flight. She must have 
 watched for his later coming, must have seen 
 him go oh, fatal step ! for which he, George 
 Grafton, and no one else, was responsible! 
 away from the path that led to his wife and 
 home, straight to that which bore him to the 
 side of the woman he had loved before ever he 
 set eyes on Floy Tremaine. And thither she, 
 perchance, had followed ; but there what had 
 she seen? what had she heard? There were 
 aching hearts in many households at Sedgwick 
 that cloudless morning, but the man who suf 
 fered most was Grafton. The whole truth 
 flashed upon him as he followed the prints of 
 Mignon's nimble hoof. He would have to tell 
 his wife and Mrs. Hayne, but no one else.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 207 
 
 "No word of this to any one, Whittaker," 
 therefore he cautioned, with a sign. 
 
 "Well, I'm not all asinine," was that 
 troubled subaltern's reply, "though I dare say 
 you've thought me so of late." 
 
 "God forbid that I should judge any man," 
 thought Graf ton to himself, "after what I've 
 done this past night." 
 
 Harriet Grafton was greatly shocked when 
 told her husband's fears, and did not al 
 together meekly accept his caution to keep the 
 secret from Fanny, who still slept the sleep of 
 the innocent and virtuous and clear of con 
 science. Hop Ling had been told to go in 
 doors, put all the rooms to rights, have the 
 breakfast-table set, and breakfast prepared as 
 usual, and he wondered but obeyed. Mrs. 
 Hayne was speedily aroused by the announce 
 ment that Mrs. Grafton was below, and was 
 well aware that something extraordinary had 
 occurred to warrant a call at so early an hour. 
 Even the children, wearied after last night's 
 vigil, were still asleep. Donning a wrapper, 
 she hastened out on the landing and softly 
 called over the balusters, " I know you have
 
 208 AN ARMV WIFE. 
 
 news for me, Mrs. Graf ton, please come 
 up." 
 
 And in the telling of her tidings, was it any 
 wonder that the younger matron burst into 
 tears ? 
 
 " We must try to make it seem that she has 
 ridden off at dawn in hopes of meeting Randy 
 on his return with the prisoners," was Mrs. 
 Hayne's decision, after she had recovered 
 from the shock and had heard the whole story ; 
 and this commended itself to Grafton as wise 
 when his wife came back to him and he had 
 returned from the never-to-be-neglected 
 "morning stables." And this too was what 
 they intended at first to say to Merriam when 
 he should come in, ravenous for breakfast and 
 astonished at not finding his wife. But high 
 noon came and brought no Randy. In the 
 words of the acting adjutant, high noon 
 brought only high jinks. 
 
 Crane, officer of the day, and a dozen other 
 officers had seen Hop Ling's frantic charge 
 across the parade at reveille, and numbers of 
 men had heard his announcement of the gen 
 eral hegira at Merriam 's. Before guard
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 209 
 
 mounting it was known that Mignon's trail led 
 straight away to the upper fords of the Santa 
 Clara far from the direction in which Randy 
 had gone. At ten a herdsman came in who 
 said he " reckoned the lady must have dropped 
 this." He saw her riding like the wind the 
 short cut for Jose's ranch on the old Navajo 
 trail, and he handed over poor Florrie's lit 
 tle traveling-bag, which she had evidently 
 strapped to her saddle, never calculating 
 perhaps never caring what the strain might 
 be, never missing it when it was gone. 
 They sent it to Mrs. Hayne, who could no 
 longer keep up her brave face but sobbed 
 over it as would a mother over some prized 
 relic of a lost and beloved child. 
 
 Then Bux ordered out three of his swiftest 
 trailers and riders and the best light wagon at 
 the post. With the wagon went the post sur 
 geon and Mrs. Hayne, who left her brood to a 
 neighbor's care. They took with them such 
 rugs and restoratives as seemed necessary, and 
 at .noon they were across the Santa Clara on 
 the road to the cantonment, expecting to 
 reach Jose's by nightfall and find their run-
 
 210 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 away darling there, exhausted by her long 
 hours in saddle and compelled to stay under 
 that friendly shelter, as (sometimes with her 
 father and twice at least with Randy) she had 
 stayed on her journeys to and fro. There she 
 would have to remain over night until Mignon 
 should be able to go on again with the rise of 
 the morning star. 
 
 Meantime the wires from Cimarron Junc 
 tion had been hot with news, and McGrath, 
 the operator, lived the day of his life, for hours 
 the most important man at the post. The 
 rioters had got wind of the coming of troops 
 and had sought to block the way by wrecking 
 a freight caboose in Calamas Gorge. The 
 Riflers swarmed out and had things in shape 
 within the hour, and went whistling on again. 
 Every one knew trouble would end the moment 
 they got to the scene of the strike, but what 
 might not happen meantime? 
 
 Something had happened. On one of the 
 passenger trains blockaded beyond Cimarron 
 was a Chicago lawyer of most active mind and 
 being, a Chicagoan of no little experience with 
 scenes of the kind, and this gentleman had
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 211 
 
 fired message after message to Lieutenant 
 Randolph Merriam, at Sedgwick, and finally 
 demanded reason for that officer's silence. 
 
 " What'll I do with this here, sir?" said Mc- 
 Grath, coming finally into the adjutant's office. 
 "There's three messages here for Mr. Mer 
 riam, urgent ones too, and finally the sender 
 asks why he don't reply." 
 
 "Say that Mr. Merriam is still away after 
 Mexican murderers and we expect him any 
 minute. Ask if any other officer will do? 
 Hello! What's that, orderly?" he broke off, 
 at the sound of hoof -beats and excited voices 
 without. 
 
 A trooper entered, dust-covered and weary, 
 to make his brief report, Captain Grafton dart 
 ing in just in time for the news. 
 
 "Lieutenant Merriam's wounded, sir, an' 
 his horse killed, and can the doctor go back 
 with me?" 
 
 "My God!" thought Grafton ere he spoke 
 aloud. " Is there to be no end to the calami 
 ties of this day?" Repressing his own eager 
 ness, he waited in stern self-discipline while 
 fla adjutant went quickly into details, as was
 
 212 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 his business, in striving to learn the extent 
 and nature of Merriam's wounds; then, the 
 colonel being over home, turned for advice to 
 Graf ton. 
 
 "Only our contract doctor left," he said. 
 " The others are off with the Riflers or in 
 chase." Hurriedly he wrote a few lines to 
 Buxton and then turned to McGrath. 
 
 " Tell Captain Graf ton about these messages 
 for Mr. Merriam, will you?" said he, "and 
 captain, will you please attend to that while I 
 look to Randy's relief? Thank God they 
 didn't kill him," he added as he went noisily 
 out. "What in heaven's name did Buxton 
 expect him to do, anyhow?" 
 
 " Have you a right to say what is wanted of 
 Mr. Merriam and whom these are from ?" asked 
 Grafton of the operator. 
 
 " I couldn't say a word, sir, ordinarily, but \ 
 believe they'll never blame me now. It's a 
 Mr. Edward Parry and he begs Mr. Merriam, 
 who can get through, to come up beyond Cim-: 
 arron to him on important business his 
 train's blockaded by strikers." 
 
 " Give me a blank," said Grafton quickly,.
 
 ' Am I to scatter my medical staff to the four winds'' 1 ''
 
 'AN ARMY WIFE. 213 
 
 "I think I partially understand the case," and 
 these were the words that were wired at one 
 o'clock to the eager lawyer on the waiting train : 
 
 " Merriam wounded -in affair with bandits 
 this morning miles from post. Mrs. McLane 
 is still under my roof. Command my services. 
 "George Grafton, Captain." 
 
 Then Grafton followed the trail of the ad 
 jutant went straightway to Buxton, who was 
 taking his noonday siesta and hated to be dis 
 turbed at such a time and was crusty, as could 
 be expected, when asked permission by Cap 
 tain Grafton to ride out and meet the wounded 
 officer. He flew into a tantrum. 
 
 "My God, sir! No, sir. Am I to scatter 
 my medical staff to the four winds, with Brady 
 and Corcoran past praying for here, and then 
 have my troop leaders scattering too! The 
 Lord only knows what's going to happen be 
 fore we get through with this day, and now 
 Merriam 's shot and otherwise injured, and all 
 on account of those beggarly greasers. No, 
 sir! Not another man goes out till we've 
 rounded up those already afield."
 
 214 AN ARMY WIFE.' 
 
 Captain Grafton turned without a word of 
 remonstrance, with his usual grave salute. 
 From there he went to see that Merriam's 
 home was in readiness, and then to his wife, 
 who read tidings of new disaster in his troubled 
 eyes. 
 
 "Oh, George!" she cried. " Will this dread 
 ful day never end? The servants say Mer 
 riam's shot and mortally wounded, and that 
 the Riflers are wrecked at Calamas Gorge " 
 
 " Merriam is shot and not mortally wounded, 
 dear, and the Riflers refused to be wrecked at 
 Calamas Gorge. Where is Mrs. McLane? 
 Has she heard?" 
 
 " Dozing placidly in her room too much 
 shaken to come down-stairs to-day. Had her 
 coffee and her luncheon in bed, and I gave 
 Annette positive orders to let her know noth 
 ing about Florence, and she hasn't. But 
 presently, when she dresses for the afternoon 
 and comes down and hears about Randy? 
 What then?" 
 
 "Still sleeping, is she?" asked Grafton, 
 ignoring for a moment the question as to what 
 migljt happen when their guest awoke and
 
 AN ARMY^ WIFE. 215 
 
 heard the news. "Yet I think you said she 
 was greatly excited after getting that second 
 dispatch and had been dreadfully nervous." 
 
 " She certainly was for some hours, and you 
 know she walked and tossed last night after 
 she came up-stairs. Then she seemed to fall 
 into a deep sleep, and Annette said she could 
 hardly arouse her for her coffee this morning." 
 
 Grafton tugged at his mustache and gave 
 himself over to deep thought a few minutes, 
 Mrs. Grafton anxiously watching his face. 
 
 " Well," said he, starting up, and, as it were, 
 shaking himself together, "let her have her 
 sleep out. I fancy more news is on the road ; 
 I know her lawyer is." 
 
 "Why! Mr. Parry? her brother-in-law?" 
 
 "The very same, Harriet, and his train is 
 side-tracked by strikers miles above Cimar- 
 ron. There are three dispatches from him for 
 Randy now." 
 
 Mrs. Grafton was silent a moment, as she 
 stood by his side looking up into his thought 
 ful face, as though seeking there the solution 
 of the questions that puzzled her. Then, 
 dusting away with her finger-tips some flakes
 
 2i6 AN ARMY WIF&. 
 
 of cigar-ashes that clung to the breast of the 
 captain's undress coat, she ventured: 
 
 "There are two things I can't understand. 
 If he's her lawyer why he should be wiring to 
 Randy and not to her, and why it is the strik 
 ers don't cut the wires if they want to cut off 
 all business." 
 
 His broad, brown hand patted caressingly 
 the taper, white fingers toying about the little 
 toggle of his watch-chain, as he looked down 
 into her anxious, upturned face. 
 
 " His letters to Fan have been unanswered 
 and he probably expects her to pay as little at 
 tention to his dispatches. As for the wires, 
 they are more necessary to the strikers in their 
 combinations than to anybody else, otherwise 
 they'd have cut them long ago ah, here 
 comes our messenger now." 
 
 And sure enough the orderly trumpeter 
 came trotting up the steps, the usual brown 
 envelope in his hand. 
 
 Mrs. Graf ton eagerly watched her husband 
 as he read. "I thought so," said he, looking 
 quietly up. "Read that," and handed her the 
 dispatch.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 217 
 
 " To Captain Grafton, Fort Sedgwick. 
 
 " Thanks for your courtesy. Shocked to hear 
 of Merriam's mishap. Mrs. McLane should 
 have met me in Denver three days ago. Must 
 be ready moment road opens. 
 
 "EDWARD PARRY." 
 
 Three hours later, just as the ladies and 
 children began to appear in their fresh after 
 noon toilets and the baby carriages and nurses 
 were in force along the gravel walk, and the 
 band was assembling for its daily concert on 
 the parade, a vision of womanly loveliness, 
 albeit garbed in sombre black, came smilingly 
 down the stairs at Graf ton's and rustling out 
 to shower gracious welcome on the little group 
 of ladies and officers on the front piazza. 
 Some of the men were seated Whittaker and 
 Minturn notably being nearest the door others 
 sunning themselves out along the fence, while 
 the ladies occupied their camp-chairs or the 
 steps as best pleased their fancy. Graf ton's 
 was always a popular rendezvous on the cavalry 
 side, and to-day the assembly was more nu 
 merous than usual, and anybody but Fanny Me-
 
 2l8 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Lane could not have failed to note how deep 
 was the shadow that overspread every face, 
 how sombre and mirthless the tenor of the talk. 
 Intent only on charming, she came trippingly 
 forth, bestowing a white hand on the red- 
 striped Minturn, who was prompt to seize it, 
 and smiles and nods and chirrups upon every 
 body. The men who had risen and doffed 
 their caps did not retake their seats, for a 
 trumpeter was sounding a stable call, and 
 Whittaker murmured with telling effect, " You 
 never come now until you know we have to 
 go;" and there was a slow and somewhat re 
 luctant start, the rival subs hanging on to the 
 last. Graf ton, usually the promptest of troop 
 leaders, went as far as his gate only and there 
 said in a low tone to his own subaltern, " Tell 
 Colonel Buxton I am detained a few minutes 
 on important personal business," and let the 
 group go sauntering out into the sunshine 
 without him. The band was gayly crashing 
 through the spirited measures of the " Liberty 
 Bell." Major Freeman, straddling down the 
 row in chase of the troop officers, glanced up 
 and smiled and waved his hand.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 219 
 
 " The Riflers put a head on that Cimarron 
 strike in short order, didn't they?" said he. 
 " The news has just come trains running to 
 morrow." 
 
 Out on the sunlit mesa a mile away a dusty 
 little cortege came slowly, wearily trooping 
 homeward, bearing a wounded officer to the 
 longed-for shelter of his home; and Grafton, 
 with still another of those fateful brown en 
 velopes in his hand, bent over and interrupted 
 the lovely widow in the midst of her animated 
 chat with the ladies from next door. 
 
 "Pardon me one minute, Mrs. McLane," he 
 said. "Some rather urgent dispatches came 
 while you were sleeping, and this has just 
 reached me. If you can spare a moment to 
 glance over them I will have the answers 
 sent. Suppose we step inside." 
 
 It was wonderful with what suddenness 
 gladness and gayety would vanish from her 
 eyes, leaving there only a hunted, haggard 
 look ; so, too, in the lines about the sensitive 
 mouth ; yet the soft, creamy tint of the fair 
 skin remained unchanged, as did the gentle 
 color. Mutely she arose and followed him,
 
 220 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 and, the parlor being in the shade and too 
 near the party on the porch, he led on to the 
 bright dining-room whose windows com 
 manded a view of the sunshiny mesa. There 
 he turned. 
 
 " Mr. Parry wires me that he had expected 
 you in Denver three days ago, and that your 
 affairs demand that you should go thither the 
 moment the road is open which will be to 
 morrow. He says he has vainly tried to get 
 an answer to his letters to you, and that no 
 reply came to his dispatches. Can I be of any 
 service, Mrs. McLane? This seems most 
 urgent, and, pardon me, I believe it my duty 
 to point out to you that your friends are ren 
 dered powerless by your own neglect to act." 
 
 "I did try," she faltered. "I had to see 
 Mr. Merriam." She made a piteous picture* 
 looking up there into his stern, soldierly face. 
 
 "But, pardon me again, I cannot see, know 
 ing nothing of the nature of this litigation, 
 what Mr. Merriam has to do with it. Is his 
 testimony necessary? Is that why Mr. Parry 
 has been urging him all day to come up to 
 Cimarron?"
 
 " '/ did try? ske /altered.'
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 221 
 
 " He he, too he has been wiring for 
 Randy?" she faltered, her eyes big with some 
 new dread. " Did he go? Has he gone?" 
 
 "He couldn't go, Mrs. McLane. He was 
 sent in pursuit of Mexican ruffians last night, 
 and was shot and severely wounded in the 
 fight this morning. Look! They're bringing 
 him in now." 
 
 And for the second time within the week 
 Fanny McLane went senseless in a second, a 
 limp and nerveless heap upon the floor. They 
 had to carry her to her room, and Grafton was 
 the burden bearer; and then, having laid her 
 upon her bed, and while the women were bus 
 tling about with the usual restoratives, he 
 stopped one moment before her profusely lit 
 tered toilet-table. A little case, half-hidden 
 among the mess, unerringly caught his eye. 
 He took it, touched the spring, gave one quick 
 glance at the dainty, delicate instruments and 
 phials inside, and replaced it, with the quiet 
 remark, " I thought so."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BUT Graf ton had graver work ahead, and it 
 was close at hand. Punctilious soldier that he 
 was, he would leave no loophole for the pos 
 sible criticism of a superior. Hurriedly writ 
 ing a few lines to Colonel Buxton notifying 
 him that the wagon bringing Merriam was now 
 close to the garrison, and that, as arranged 
 between them, he would meet it at the gate, he 
 sent the note by his servant and hastened up 
 the row to the angle formed by the south and 
 west fronts, where an opening had been left in 
 the fence for the convenience of riding parties ; 
 and it was through this gap that poor Randy 
 was presently trundled and then down along 
 the line to his own doorway. By this time the 
 pain in his strained and stiffened leg was in 
 tense, while the arm, hurriedly but skilfully 
 dressed when far afield, was troubling him but 
 little. His one thought all the way had been 
 222
 
 AN' ARMY WIFE. 223 
 
 for Florence. He had insisted on scribbling 
 her a little note before they reached the Santa 
 Clara, just to tell her he was all right; that 
 there was nothing to worry about, and all he 
 needed was a few days of her nursing. The 
 doctor gave it to one of the men and gravely 
 bade him ride ahead and give it to Mrs. 
 Merriam, and the trooper had duly handed it 
 in at the door, where Hop Ling received it 
 with his customary grin, and stowed it away 
 on the mantel in the now deserted parlor where 
 notes and cards had generally been displayed 
 for the eyes of the young mistress. 
 
 And now as they neared the familiar spot, 
 poor Randy would sit up. It would never do 
 to come before her eyes prostrated as though 
 sorely hurt. Anything to spare her needless 
 shock or worry. He even essayed a semi- 
 jocular " How are you, old man?" as he caught 
 sight of Grafton, and tried a smile and a wave 
 of his hand to the ladies who appeared on the 
 southernmost porch of the infantry lines. 
 
 "Why, you look as though you'd had a 
 worse tussle than I, captain," he laughed pain 
 fully, as he held out his hand. " How is Flor-
 
 224 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 ence? It hasn't frightened her much, has it? 
 I hope Mrs. Hayne's been with her." 
 
 "She's been a good deal troubled, of course," 
 answered Grafton, gravely, "but but Mrs. 
 Hayne is bringing her round all right, I 
 think. How are you, old man? You did have 
 a ride!" 
 
 But now Randy was peering out along the 
 row their own row. Women were to be 
 seen here and there along the verandas, gaz 
 ing sympathetically toward the slowly moving 
 party, but no feminine form was visible on the 
 piazza of his little home. 
 
 "Better lie back, Mr. Merriam," urged the 
 doctor. "Try to make him do so," he mur 
 mured to Grafton. "We've got to get him 
 quiet in his room before we let him know any 
 thing." Already the anxious young physician 
 had been told that Mrs. Merriam was probably 
 fifty miles away, and his soul was wrung at 
 the thought of what that would mean to his 
 patient. 
 
 "Yes, lie down, Randy, till we get you in 
 doors," urged Grafton. 'We've had to put 
 up a game on Mrs. Randy (God forgive me
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 225 
 
 the lie," he prayed). " Knowing how anxious 
 you were and we were lest she should be 
 shocked, we kept her away. Mrs. Hayne and 
 Dr. Gould are looking out for her. She's not 
 to be allowed to come near you till we get you 
 safe and sound and bathed and all fixed up in 
 bed. Of course we know now, Randy we 
 didn't before, but Mrs. Hayne had to tell my 
 wife how careful we have to be of her now, 
 and really, old boy, she oughtn't to see you 
 till you're washed and dressed. You look 
 tough, Randy." 
 
 And though the face he longed to see as 
 they bore him up the steps was miles and 
 miles away, Merriam stifled his own disap 
 pointment and bravely thanked them. "God 
 bless you and Mrs. Grafton! That was indeed 
 thoughtful of you, old boy," he gasped, for 
 pain was wrenching him, and he gave a long, 
 long sigh of relief when at last he was lifted 
 from the stretcher to a bed in the spare room. 
 
 But that sigh was a faint whisper as com 
 pared with the long, long breath that Grafton 
 drew, as he sat him down in the adjoining 
 room and mopped his streaming forehead.
 
 226 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Colonel Buxton and others all the officers, 
 almost felt bound to come to the house be 
 tween stables and retreat, just to see how 
 Randy was getting on, but the answer was the 
 same to one and all. No one was to be ad 
 mitted, for the doctor was "trying to get him 
 to sleep." 
 
 And surely enough, bathed, refreshed, his 
 arm set and dressed, Randy soon found him 
 self stowed away in a soft, white bed, but oh, 
 so weak and drowsy after all the labor of the 
 chase and the long, long day of racking pain. 
 They were to bring Florence to him now, his 
 wife, his darling, impatiently waiting for the 
 summons, as he thought her, at Mrs. Hayne's, 
 and he was stretching out his arms to her 
 his one available arm, rather, and fondly mur 
 muring her name, when the weary eyelids 
 closed and, numb and impotent, he drifted 
 away into deep, deep slumber. 
 
 "There," said the doctor, at last, "he'll do 
 now!" 
 
 "Aye," murmured Grafton, "but what will 
 the waking be if there's no Florence here to 
 morrow."
 
 AX ARMY 1 1' //'/:. 227 
 
 That was an anxious night at Sedgwick. 
 Merriam slept like the dead, and twice the 
 young doctor feared it might be necessary to 
 rouse him, thinking that perhaps he had sent 
 that tiny shot of his hypodermic syringe with 
 too heavy a charge. But so long as Randy was 
 ignorant of his wife's mad escapade he would 
 have slept through sheer exhaustion and 
 weariness, and his physician need not have 
 troubled himself. Twice Grafton tiptoed in, 
 and the hospital attendant arose at his coming 
 and reported that the patient had not stirred. 
 
 Over at Grafton's quarters, however, they 
 had to deal with a less tractable creature. 
 Fanny McLane had roused from her swoon 
 and was nervously, excitably, irritably wide 
 awake, demanding actually to be allowed to 
 see Mr. Merriam. Even Annette was sent out 
 of the room and Mrs. Grafton had her friend 
 and guest to herself, and her tears and pray 
 ers, her reproaches and imprecations, fell on 
 hardened ears. Mrs. Grafton was adamant. 
 
 " It is mad folly to talk of .such a thing, 
 Fanny," she replied to every assault. "Mr. 
 Merriam is far too severely injured to see any-
 
 228 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 body, much less you, who would importune 
 him for your own selfish purposes. Captain 
 Grafton says the doctor has forbidden him to 
 everybody, and he knows. In the morning 
 Captain Grafton will see him for you, if the 
 doctor will permit." 
 
 Whereat the widow only stormed the more 
 and declared, with hysteric tears, that they 
 were keeping her away from Randy Merriam 
 out of spite and hatred just at the most critical 
 time. "He'll die, he'll die," she cried, "and 
 carry my one safeguard with him to the grave." 
 
 Sorely puzzled, Mrs. Grafton had to leave 
 her once in a while for a few minutes at a 
 time to consult her husband, who could fre 
 quently be heard moving about the parlor or 
 going quickly in and out of the house. It was 
 plain that Grafton was troubled about some 
 thing besides Randy, and at eleven o'clock the 
 explanation came. 
 
 Up to sundown Florence Mrs. Merriam 
 had not been seen or heard of at Jose's ranch. 
 
 One of the trailers, Rafferty by name, de 
 clared that Mignon's tracks turned suddenly 
 to the northward and led away from the ranch
 
 \ 
 
 Fanny,
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 229 
 
 and into the maze of foothills to the right of 
 the cantonment trail. At sundown they had 
 reached Jose's, still hoping against hope that 
 she would be there, but no sign of her had 
 been seen, and, borrowing a fresh horse, 
 Rafferty started back to Sedgwick at the 
 gallop to carry the news. He met the doctor 
 with Mrs. Hayne only a short distance from 
 Josh's, and they went on to the ranch hoping 
 for better tidings, but bade him ride for Sedg 
 wick with all speed. Rafferty could ride week 
 in and week out if the horse could stand it, 
 and Jose's broncho was a used-up quadruped 
 by the time they reached the Santa Clara. 
 There he turned him into a ranchman's corral 
 and borrowed another, never stopping to say 
 " by your leave, sir. " This was on the Queen 's 
 service in Rafferty 's mind, and no man's 
 property was sacred when "Miss Florence's" 
 life was involved. Buxton was up and about 
 when the courier came, and in ten minutes had 
 reached the office and sent for Graf ton. What 
 he wished to know was, had she any reason 
 whatever for turning away from the beaten 
 track and taking to the unknown regions off
 
 23 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 the road and far to the northwest of the settle 
 ments? Grafton knew of none. There was 
 indeed grave reason why she should not. 
 
 For fifty miles northward the Santa Clara 
 twined and twisted through a fairly fertile 
 valley, once the herding-ground of the Nava- 
 jos, now wild and almost unsettled. Ameri 
 cans and Mexicans both had tried it as a stock 
 range, but American cattle and American 
 horses demanded a better quality of grass and 
 more of it than would serve the stomach of the 
 Indian pony. Treaty obligations sent the 
 Navajos farther into the mountains to the 
 northwest beyond the Mescalero but there 
 were restless roamers who were constantly off 
 the reservation, sometimes on pass but oftener 
 on mischief, and on the pretext of trading 
 they came recklessly as far as the settlement, 
 and then somebody's horses were sure ti 
 be missing, spirited away into the foothills, 
 whither it was almost useless to follow. The 
 Navajos said the Mexicans were the thieves, 
 the Mexicans declared them to be the Navajos, 
 and when both parties were caught and ac 
 cused, with prompt unanimity both announced
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 231 
 
 that Apaches must again be raiding, and the 
 name of Apache covered a multitude of sins. 
 Time was when Victorio and Nana led the 
 cavalry some glorious chases into the Mes- 
 calero, but both those redoubtables had met 
 their fate, and agency officials across the 
 Arizona line were ready to swear that none of 
 their once intractable followers ever thought of 
 quitting corn and melon planting for the for 
 bidden joys of the raid and the warpath. All 
 the same the foothills and the valley far to the 
 northwest of the settlements were full of 
 mystery and danger the roaming-ground of 
 the horse-thief and the renegade, and Mer- 
 riam's men, just in from their long chase, 
 pointed out how the Mexican ruffians, though 
 starting originally toward the southwest, had 
 in long wide circuit gradually worked their 
 way northward, as though making for this 
 very region. The leader of the gang that 
 shot Brady and Corcoran was a fellow by the 
 name of Ramon Valdez, and there was no dev 
 iltry too steep for him. The news, therefore, 
 that Florence Merriam had not reached Jose's, 
 but that her trail was lost somewhere among
 
 *3 2 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 the buttes and bowlders four miles to the east 
 ward of that frontier refuge, struck dismay to 
 the hearts of her friends at Sedgwick. The 
 tidings went from lip to lip, from house to 
 house, like wildfire, and by midnight an entire 
 troop had ridden forth with their ever-ready 
 three days' rations, and with Captain George 
 Grafton in command, and their orders were 
 not to return without Mrs. Merriam or definite 
 news of her. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton let her husband go only with 
 deep reluctance. He was very necessary to 
 her now. She felt the need of his support in 
 the management of her truculent patient. She 
 had to leave the latter while assisting him in 
 his busy preparations, and she was surprised 
 and rejoiced to see that on her return to her 
 Fanny had become far more calm and resigned. 
 The ladies in many households were still up 
 and flitting about the post, tearfully, fore 
 bodingly discussing the situation, and several 
 of them had dropped in to speak a word with 
 Mrs. Grafton Whittaker and Minturn being 
 ever on the alert to escort such parties and 
 so it was long after one indeed, it was nearly
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 233 
 
 two o'clock when at last, after a final peep at 
 her now placidly sleeping guest and leaving 
 Annette curled up on the sofa by her mistress' 
 bedside, Mrs. Grafton finally sought her own 
 pillow and slept long into the sunshine of the 
 following day. 
 
 Awakening with a start at the sound of 
 stirring music on the parade, she found that 
 it was after eight and guard mounting was in 
 full blast. Summoning a servant, her first 
 question was for news of Mrs. Merriam, for 
 servants always know the garrison news be 
 fore their masters. Not a word had been re 
 ceived. Presently she tiptoed to Fanny's 
 room, softly turned the knob, and noiselessly 
 entered. There lay her guest still plunged in 
 deep slumber, but Annette had disappeared, 
 gone, probably, to the kitchen for coffee. Far 
 over at the east, where the railway crossed the 
 barren mesa, a locomotive whistle broke the 
 silence of the desert with long, exultant blast. 
 The blockade then was broken. The first 
 train was coming in from Cimarron. Dressing 
 with greater haste than usual, she ordered 
 breakfast served, and then went out on the
 
 234 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 piazza, and looked up the row toward the 
 Merriams'. The doctor was just coming out 
 of the gate, and Whittaker, who had spent the 
 night there on watch all thought of rivalry 
 forgotten was standing on the top step, ap 
 parently detaining the physician with some 
 question. Eager for news of Randy, Mrs. 
 Graf ton threw her husband's cavalry cape over 
 her shoulders and tripped briskly up the gravel 
 walk. "Still sleeping," said the doctor, "and 
 how is your patient?" 
 
 "Also sleeping," said Mrs. Graf ton. "I 
 don't see how people can sleep so soundly at 
 such times," whereat the doctor looked con 
 scious but said nothing. 
 
 All that morning people strained their eyes 
 and rubbed their binoculars and searched the 
 distant foothills to the northwest, hoping for 
 the coming of couriers with news; but not 
 until afternoon were they rewarded. Then, 
 covered with sweat and dust, a corporal of 
 Grafton's troop rode in. Dr. Gould and Mrs. 
 Hayne were still at Jose's, though they feared 
 they could be of no use there, for not a sign 
 of Florence had been found. Graf ton had
 
 Hop Ling.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 235 
 
 sent couriers on to the Catamount with the 
 tidings of her peril, and his men, in wide dis 
 persed order, were scouring the foothills long 
 days' marches away. Full half an hour the 
 ladies grouped at Buxton's, listening to the 
 soldiers' description of their search, and then 
 were strolling homeward when, over toward 
 the west end of the cavalry line, arose the 
 sound of commotion and distress. 
 
 An instant later, as the doctor, blanching, 
 turned to hasten thither, a woman dressed in 
 deepest black came reeling forth from the 
 Merriams' doorway and plunging wildly down 
 the steps. Every one knew her at a glance 
 it was Fanny McLane, who stood there now 
 swaying at the gate as though gasping for 
 breath, while calling inarticulately for aid. 
 It was but a few seconds before the doc 
 tor reached her. They saw him accost her 
 briefly, then go springing past her up the 
 steps and into the house. A moment more 
 and Mrs. Graf ton, with other women, reached 
 her. 
 
 " What is the matter? What has happened, 
 Fanny? Why are you here?"
 
 236 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 And cowering, sobbing, shivering, she made 
 answer: 
 
 "Oh, stop him! save him! He'll kill him 
 self. I told him his wife was gone." 
 
 Too late. Out to the stable the doctor 
 chased, for bed and room were deserted. 
 There, wildly gesticulating and pointing to 
 the open mesa, was Hop Ling. " He makee 
 my saddle he makee lide he allee gone!" 
 he wailed, pointing to where, far to the west, a 
 puff of dust-cloud was swiftly vanishing down 
 into the valley of the Santa Clara.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 JUST about noon, when the hospital attend 
 ant was away at dinner, the doctor at Buxton's 
 and Whittaker getting a nap after his night of 
 vigil, only Hop Ling was on duty over Randy. 
 " He'll probably sleep until late in the after 
 noon," the doctor said, when he looked in at 
 eleven, and so perhaps he might have done. 
 Grafton before starting had taken the respon 
 sibility of removing Florence's ominous look 
 ing missive and placing it with other letters 
 on the mantel in the little parlor. He could 
 not feel justified in hiding it entirely. He felt 
 that when Merriam woke the truth would have 
 to be told him, and perhaps Florence's own 
 words might best explain her flight. At all 
 events Dr. Leavitt had promised to be on hand 
 to see that the news was not too abruptly 
 broken, and Leavitt counted on a long sleep 
 and upon subsequent drowsiness and languor 
 237
 
 238 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 as the result of his treatment. No one had 
 dreamed of the possibility of such rude awak 
 ening as came. No woman in her right senses 
 would have ventured on the mad-brained, des 
 perate measure resorted to by Mrs. McLane. 
 What she hoped to learn, what she expected 
 to gain, what papers or information she still 
 believed him to possess, who can say? The 
 power of reasoning, driven from her by the 
 stupefying drug that of late had overmastered 
 its weak and willing victim, seemed to have 
 utterly gone, leaving in its place only some 
 thing of the craft and cunning that possess the 
 insane. No sooner was Mrs. Grafton out of the 
 way than, rousing suddenly, Fanny had sum 
 moned Annette, had hastened through her 
 toilet, and, barely sipping the coffee tendered 
 her, had thrown a light wrap over her head and 
 shoulders and flitted out of the house, out past 
 the stable at the rear, and, to the amaze of the 
 sentry on No. 2, had scurried away along the 
 fence, had easily located the Merriams' gate, 
 the number on which corresponded with that 
 of their quarters, and in another moment had 
 let herself through the kitchen and dining-room
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 239 
 
 and into the little parlor. There for a few 
 moments she seemed to have paused and re 
 connoitred. 
 
 Of what followed only Randy and Hop Ling 
 were witnesses. The latter was never able to 
 explain it, if indeed he ever could understand 
 the situation, and as for Randy it was long be 
 fore he could be induced to speak of it at all. 
 The time came when he had to, however, and 
 it can be told now. 
 
 He was half asleep, half awake, in that 
 helplessly lethargic state that seems to possess 
 .most temperaments after subjection to the in 
 fluence of morphine. He was conscious of no 
 pain, no soreness, conscious of nothing but 
 that longing for the coming of Florence and a 
 wondering as to the time of night or day. He 
 remembered half opening his eyes and seeing 
 Hop blinking in an easy-chair by the bedside, 
 and then he noticed that it was in the spare 
 room the guest room he was lying, and he 
 thought it must be near dawn, for the shutters 
 and shades were drawn, yet a dim light was 
 shining through. He thought Florrie must be 
 in her room, the front room, and he was just
 
 240 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 thinking of calling to the servant and rousing 
 him, when he heard the swift pit-a-pat of light 
 footsteps in the hall, a swish of skirts, and, 
 stretching out his arm, he called aloud, " Flor 
 ence, darling!" and the next minute a wo 
 man's form was at his bedside and he started 
 up, rubbing his eyes, amazed, startled, believ 
 ing perhaps that he was still dreaming, for 
 there, with trembling, outstretched hands, 
 stood Fanny McLane. 
 
 " What where is my wife?" he gasped. " I 
 thought why, surely this cannot be you!" 
 
 "It is I, Randy," she quavered. "I was in 
 torment I could not rest nor sleep. I knew 
 you were alone, with no one to care for 
 you." 
 
 "Alone!" he interrupted. "What do you 
 mean? Where is Florence, my wife?" 
 
 "You don't mean they haven't told you?" 
 she answered. "She has gone home to her 
 people, it is supposed. She left two nights 
 ago that is one reason I am here." 
 
 But Merriam burst in upon her wailing, half 
 incoherent words. " In God's name what do 
 you mean? You or I must be mad. Here,
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 241 
 
 Hop, quick! Where are my clothes? Fetch 
 them at once; then go for Captain Graf ton." 
 
 "I'm not mad," she answered. "Read this 
 the letter she left for you," and the wretched 
 woman tossed upon the bed the note she had 
 taken from among the others on the mantel, 
 and, shouting for a light, Merriam tore open 
 the envelope, while the Chinaman, nerveless 
 and obedient to the master's will, threw open 
 the shutters. 
 
 In the next minute Randy had read the 
 page, with staring, throbbing eyes, then fairly 
 ordered her from the room and dazed, yet 
 terrified at the effect of her announcement, 
 she crept into Florence's room and threw her 
 self into a chair, moaning and rocking to and 
 fro. Like a madman Merriam was up and 
 tearing about, issuing rapid orders to the ser 
 vant, his lameness all forgotten, and Hop, 
 awed and dismayed, dared disobey him in 
 nothing. Quickly he dressed his master, pull 
 ing on light riding-breeches and leggings in 
 stead of the cavalry scouting-rig, and carefully 
 drawing a hunting-shirt over the crippled arm 
 
 that in its sling and bandages was now bound 
 16
 
 *4* AN' ARMY WIFE. 
 
 close to the body. It seemed to take no time 
 at all to get him dressed, yet Merriam fumed 
 and raged, and then limped forth into the hall, 
 bidding- Hop go saddle Brown Dick at once. 
 
 At sound of his halting footsteps in the 
 hall, she had once more roused herself to 
 action, her own weight of care and trouble 
 urging her on. "Randy," she cried, "for 
 God's sake answer me! Are you sure are 
 you sure was there no other statement? no 
 other paper? Did he persist to the last that 
 his mother was alive?" 
 
 "Mrs. McLane," was the answer, "you 
 forced me to tell you the truth. I did all I 
 could to keep it and to keep myself from you, 
 but you would have it." 
 
 "Oh, Randy, Randy!" she cried. "You 
 are heartless! You are brutal, vindictive! 
 You are punishing me because I so cruelly 
 wronged you. But what did I ever do to you 
 compared with what you have done to me? 
 Oh, why, if you ever loved me, why could you 
 not have destroyed that lying paper tnat is to 
 rob me of my name, my rights, rob me of 
 everything?"
 
 Yet: held them that ^ou mis/it triumph over my ruin.' 1 '
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 243 
 
 " Hush !" he answered, leaning heavily 
 against the balustrade. " I rode night and 
 day. We sent the swiftest courier we had 
 to save your honor to stop that marriage " 
 
 "But you didn't stop it! You were too 
 late!" she cried. "And when you saw it was 
 too late, instead of burning those papers or 
 giving them to me you held them that you 
 might triumph over my ruin. Then when 
 you knew I was coming to beg for them, you 
 were a coward, Randy you sent them all to 
 Ned Parry, that my own sister might gloat 
 over my downfall." 
 
 "Mrs. McLane," he interrupted, "this is all 
 unjust, all untrue. Ask Mr. Parry when he 
 comes, as come he probably will. But this 
 ends our meetings. God forbid that I should 
 ever see you alone again ! It has driven from 
 me my wife the wife I love and love devot 
 edly do you hear? and I'm going now to 
 find her." 
 
 And then he broke away. Out to the stable 
 he staggered ; love, pity, devotion urging him 
 on and triumphing over the still numbing 
 effect of the deadening drug whose languorous
 
 244 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 spell he had never known before ; and Brown 
 Dick whinnied his welcome and impatience, 
 and Hop Ling whimpered his "pidgin" pro 
 tests, even as he was "cinching" on Merriam's 
 field saddle with its well-stocked pouches. 
 Randy fiercely ordered silence, bade the 
 Chinaman give him a hand, and then, with 
 blurred eyes and senses, with ears still drows 
 ily ringing, he slowly climbed into saddle, 
 hardly missing the customary grip of the left 
 hand in the mane. Then out he rode into the 
 sunshine, Brown Dick bounding with eager 
 ness to search for and rejoin his stable mate ; 
 and then with every stride as he tore away 
 over the mesa Randy felt the cobwebs brush 
 ing from his brain, and hope and determina 
 tion spurring him on. "You have broken 
 your word and gone to your old love," was the 
 stern message of Florence's brief letter. " I 
 will be no man's fool, no faithless husband's 
 wife. You need not look for me nor follow, 
 for I will never come to you again." 
 
 Another time pride, anger, and sense of 
 wrong might have held his hand, but not now. 
 And before that half-crazed, half-cringing wo-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 245 
 
 man could give the alarm, Randy Merriam 
 was riding fast and furious to join the pursuit, 
 thinking only of her suffering and her sorrow, 
 all ignorant, mercifully, of the new peril that 
 involved his precious wife. 
 
 It was vain for Dr. Leavitt to heap impreca 
 tion on the head of that hapless Chinaman. 
 Implicit obedience to the will of his master 
 was the only creed Hop Ling observed. 
 "Mellium say dless and catchum saddle and 
 flask and lunch" that was enough. " Mel 
 lium say lide an' catchum Missee Mellium," 
 and Hop Ling wasn't fool enough to interfere. 
 
 But if Dr. Leavitt had lost one patient, 
 Fate had provided him with another. He was 
 needed at once at Graf ton's, and, tarrying 
 only long enough to report to Buxton the es 
 cape of Lieutenant Merriam, he hastened to 
 the bedside of Mrs. McLane, now in sore need 
 of medical attention. 
 
 Harriet Grafton has been heard to say that 
 that afternoon and the night that followed 
 made her ten years older, but her looks do 
 not warrant the statement. Unquestionably 
 she had a hard time, and might have had a
 
 246 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 much harder but for the opportune arrival at 
 the post, just before sundown, of the lately 
 blockaded lawyer, Mr. Edward Parry, of Chi 
 cago. 
 
 Meantime, utterly broken down and cut off 
 now, for the first time since her marriage, 
 from the soothing and comfort of the perilous 
 drug to the use of which she had become 
 wedded almost from the hour that she met 
 McLane, poor self-absorbed Fanny was pour 
 ing out her story and her secret in almost in 
 coherent ravings to her hostess. Dr. Leavitt, 
 who had suspected the cause of her vagaries 
 before, was confident of it when he was called 
 in to prescribe, and quickly found the dainty 
 little case that Grafton had discovered the day 
 before. It was hours before she could be even 
 measurably quieted, and meantime what a tale 
 of shame and woe had she not poured into 
 Harriet's astonished ears? 
 
 Strained from its ravings and incoherencies 
 and straightened out in chronological order, 
 the story resolved itself into this : John Har 
 old McLane was a Southern sympathizer as a 
 young man, and went to California during the
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 247 
 
 war, provided with a liberal allowance and an 
 opportunity of embarking in business. At 
 Sacramento he fell into the clutches of a no 
 torious household. "Old man Perkins" had 
 three handsome daughters and a scheming 
 wife. The mother's aim was to marry those 
 girls to wealthy men, and she had succeeded 
 as to two of them, and McLane fell a victim 
 to the plot and was married to the third. A 
 son, John H., Jr., was born to them in June, 
 '67, and trouble of every kind followed. The 
 sisters had quarrelled with their respective 
 lords, one of whom had abandoned his wife 
 and gone to Japan, while the other, even more 
 desperate, had gone, self-directed, to his 
 grave. McLane's home people refused to rec 
 ognize any of the Perkins stock and cut off 
 the young fellow's allowance. Old man Per 
 kins, therefore, had three married daughters 
 and one son-in-law on his hands, and pande 
 monium reigned within his gates. He had 
 to order the eldest daughter out of the house, 
 and she revenged herself by eloping with a 
 man who deserted wife and children to run 
 away with this magnificently handsome crea-
 
 248 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 ture, a thing he mourned in sackcloth and 
 ashes until, his money vanishing, she ran off 
 with another victim and left him poor indeed, 
 yet vastly better off than when he had her. 
 
 McLane's wife was the best of the three in 
 disposition, but that was saying little, and 
 when all his money was gone they fairly 
 kicked him out of doors, and he, in despera 
 tion, drifted to Nevada and the mines, just in 
 the days when colossal fortunes were being 
 made by men who were wielding pick and 
 shovel. At the very time old Perkins' peo 
 ple were trying to get a divorce, alleging de 
 sertion and failure to support, McLane loomed 
 up at Virginia City as part owner of a lode 
 that paid like the Comstock, and his Sacra 
 mento wife, who was believed to be deeply in 
 love with a steamboat engineer, proved that she 
 wasn't by journeying to Virginia City with her 
 little boy and reclaiming her now prosperous 
 husand. There they lived in style, and the 
 Perkins household came to visit them and re 
 mained indefinitely, until the bickering drove 
 McLane mad and he "skipped to 'Frisco," 
 where every deal he made in the stock market
 
 Randy Merriaw.
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 249 
 
 went his way, and he became a millionaire 
 before he was thirty. Again his pretty but 
 low-bred wife followed, and again he honestly 
 tried to make the best of his bargain ; but her 
 mad extravagance and the ceaseless incursions 
 of mother- and sister-in-law were too much 
 for him. One day there came a crash and 
 much of his fortune was swept away. He had 
 to break up his Sa'n Francisco home and go 
 back to Virginia City, and a furious quarrel 
 followed, in which he ordered the Perkinses 
 never to darken his doors again, and lo! his 
 wife sided with her sister and elected to go 
 with them. McLane would gladly have parted 
 with them all, but he had grown to love his 
 boy. When once more, a year later, fortune 
 smiled on him, and, with a new bank account, 
 he came down to San Francisco, the Perkinses 
 had disappeared. Two of the sisters were 
 living the lives of adventuresses. Old Perkins 
 was dead and buried, and no one knew where 
 the rest had gone a host of Sacramento 
 tradesmen wished they could find out. 
 
 Then McLane came East, bringing his 
 sheaves with him, and his family not unnatu-
 
 250 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 rally forgave and welcomed him. Prosperity 
 followed him. He fairly coined money, and 
 Uncle Abe Mellen was only too glad to have him 
 as a partner; and then after a lapse of years, 
 when he thought her dead and honestly wished 
 her so, his blissful bachelor life was broken in 
 upon by the reappearance of his Sacramento 
 wife, now a handsome woman of nearly forty, 
 and a stalwart stripling whom he recognized 
 at once as his long-lost son. For two years 
 he provided for her and tried to educate the 
 boy, but never again acknowledged her as his 
 wife, and so long as she was amply paid and 
 housed, lodged and cared for, she never pro 
 tested. Mac's club friends sometimes winked 
 and nudged each other when the tall young 
 fellow appeared at the waiting-room with a 
 letter, or when occasionally a dashing-looking 
 woman patrolled the neighborhood until he 
 would come out and join her. The boy was 
 wild and wouldn't study, and was expelled 
 from the schools at which he was entered by 
 the name of Perkins, and the landlords com 
 plained of the people Mrs. Perkins received 
 and entertained ; then Mac put the young man
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 251 
 
 in Mellen's bank, and there he was when 
 the Hayward nieces came back from Europe, 
 and Charlotte married Ned Parry and Fan 
 wished to marry Merriam. It was J. H. Mc- 
 Lane, Jr., who did Uncle Abe's work for him 
 and went around among Merriam's creditors 
 and got them to unite in their complaint to the 
 War Department; but by that time he had 
 seen something of Randy, had "taken a shine 
 to him," as he expressed it, and when he 
 learned that Merriam had been banished to 
 the frontier as a consequence he told the old 
 man that he was done with that sort of dirty 
 work, and was minded to go and confess to 
 Miss Hayward what he had done. To buy him 
 off Mellen gave him all the money he needed 
 and bade him go and live the life he always 
 longed to live, that of a prospector and miner 
 in the Sierras. McLane, the father, was away 
 and had been away for several months. Mrs. 
 McLane, the mother, after a furious quarrel 
 with her protector something over a year be 
 fore, had agreed to return to California and 
 never trouble him again upon payment of a 
 big, round sum in cash. She would not listen
 
 252 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 to a pension, and the story that came to the 
 husband's ears soon after was that at last his 
 Sacramento wife had rewarded the fidelity of 
 her old friend, the steamboat engineer; but 
 the lawyers sent to trace the matter were con 
 fronted by unlooked-for news unwelcome 
 news, and therefore news they fully investi 
 gated before reporting, since, if true, it would 
 put an end to what promised to be a most 
 profitable case. That twenty-five thousand 
 dollars was practically wasted Mrs. John H. 
 McLane was dead. 
 
 They found her grave, headstone and all, 
 but could get no trace of her long-devoted 
 lover. It was surmised that he had taken 
 what was left of the money and gone else 
 where in search of consolation. McLane came 
 back to New York, met Fanny Hay ward, fell 
 in love, and Uncle Mellen urged the match in 
 every way ; and we know the result. There 
 was a fortnight in which McLane seemed the 
 happiest of men. Then came a shock. Fanny 
 found him nearly crazed with trouble. A let 
 ter had come purporting to be from that sup 
 posed-to-be-dead woman demanding further
 
 AN A It MY WIFE. 253 
 
 heavy payment as the price of her silence. 
 McLane honestly told Fan the truth, and 
 was astonished at her decision. She bade 
 him "pay the money and have done with 
 it." 
 
 They might have doubted the genuineness 
 of her letter, but there was no doubting that 
 of young McLane's dying statement, wit 
 nessed by the officers from Sedgwick. He 
 declared his mother alive. And so one crime 
 led to another. No sooner had they reached 
 California than the whole Perkins family 
 seemed resurrected, and blackmail was their 
 business. The eldest sister demanded heavy 
 hush-money, and it was paid. The second 
 sister turned up with her husband and a pre 
 posterous demand. It was they who haunted 
 him at the San Francisco club, and the man, 
 drunk and triumphant, insolently demanding 
 money that night, had fired that well-nigh 
 fatal shot when repudiated, defied, and 
 struck. The very next day at their hotel 
 came a letter warning them to silence as to 
 the identity of the assailants. So long as 
 these latter were allowed to escape arrest
 
 254 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 they would keep the secret, but if arrested 
 and brought to trial they would proclaim 
 McLane a bigamist. All this was made 
 known to Uncle Mellen, and he, too, backed 
 the niece's cause and kept up the deception. 
 But no one could tell where the first wife was 
 hidden. " She will be produced when needed, 
 and her money must be paid through her sis 
 ter." The money, a large sum, was paid, 
 and then there was temporary peace. But 
 McLane drooped and died under the weight 
 of shame and anxiety. There was quarrelling 
 between the widow and the guardian and 
 further demands from those cormorants, who 
 now openly threatened to claim the dead 
 man's estate for the widow and her son they, 
 at least, knew nothing of the latter's death; 
 and then Fanny, coming to Sedgwick, tried 
 to reassert her old sovereignty over Merriam 
 and to gain possession of the papers of which 
 her husband had told her and which Randy 
 had long since sent to Parry, but concerning 
 which she had never spoken to her brother- 
 in-law, believing him to be ignorant of their 
 existence; and it pleased Ned Parry to let
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 255 
 
 her live on in ignorance that he had them. 
 He took a curious interest in making a 
 study of her, and had, without consulting his 
 client, a more than professional interest in the 
 case. 
 
 But now Bullock, the man who shot Mc- 
 Lane, had been traced to and arrested in 
 Chicago, together with his dashing helpmeet. 
 Uncle Mellen had been prostrated by paraly 
 sis as a result of the news. The secret could 
 be no longer kept, and Fanny McLane, hunt 
 ed, desperate, self-deluded, and self-drugged, 
 believed herself a ruined woman when at last 
 Ned Parry came. 
 
 Too ill to see him, she seemed at least re 
 lieved to know he had come, and that night 
 in Grafton's parlor he sat gravely listening to 
 Harriet's recital of what Fanny had detailed 
 to her, making no comment but taking it all 
 in, when, just at tattoo, a trooper dismounted 
 at the gate and bore to Mrs. Grafton a brief 
 missive from her husband. It was written 
 that morning nearly twenty miles northwest 
 of Jose's ranch. 
 
 "You must prepare Merriam for the worst,"
 
 256 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 it said. "There is reason to believe poor 
 Florence has fallen into the hands of a little 
 band of Apaches. The sign is unmistakable 
 and we are just starting in pursuit."
 
 Hung reverentially back as though waiting- permission to venture into 
 the presence of- a queen.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LATE that anxious night one battalion of 
 the Riflers returned to Sedgwick, Hayne's 
 company one of the four, and very grave he 
 looked when told of the events of the past 
 forty-eight hours. Acting on the report of 
 Captain Grafton that Apache sign had been 
 found in the foothills north of Jose's, Buxton 
 had ordered another troop to march to rein 
 force him, and this troop Hayne obtained 
 permission to accompany. It marched at 
 dawn, so he had barely three hours in which 
 to prepare, Mr. Parry, wearied with his jour 
 neying and many cares, had been escorted to 
 Merriam's vacated quarters by Whittaker 
 some little time before midnight, and there he 
 was made welcome by Hop Ling and given 
 the room abandoned by the master of the 
 house so short a time before. Many people, 
 between anxiety as to the fate of their beloved 
 '7 2 57
 
 258 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 Florence and their eagerness to receive the 
 Riflers on their return, sat up until two 
 o'clock; but Parry, though filled with anxiety 
 as keen, was well aware that nothing was to 
 be gained by his spending a wakeful night 
 and listening to all manner of theory as to the 
 cause of the fair fugitive's sudden deflection 
 from the road to the ranch. Hayne, there 
 fore, did not meet nor see him, but, as soon as 
 it was light, rode forth ahead of the troop, 
 meaning to go first to Jose's, see his wife 
 and Dr. Gould, and then strike out north 
 ward, confident of meeting the second troop 
 somewhere in the open country that there 
 spread for miles before him. 
 
 Buxton had sent a party on the trail of Mer- 
 riam within an hour of his dash and with or 
 ders to bring him back to the post, but they 
 had not been heard from since their start, 
 "and," said Whittaker, "they're not likely to 
 be. Those fellows barely ride one mile to 
 Randy's two. It's my belief he will just pull 
 up at Jose*'s and then go straight on to the 
 foothills, as probably she did." 
 
 But Randy was having a ride the like of
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 259 
 
 which was not recorded in the annals of Fort 
 Sedgwick since the days when, long before 
 the war, the First Dragoons and the Navajos 
 battled for the mastership of the Santa Clara. 
 Ignorant as yet of the report of Apaches in 
 the foothills of the Mescalero, his one theory 
 was that she had gone to Jose's, intending 
 from there to push on to the cantonment. 
 The thought of her daring so long and so 
 hard a ride at a time when she should be 
 guarded with the utmost care was in itself a 
 source of dire distress to him, and he could 
 hardly have speeded faster and with grimmer 
 determination to defy all pain or weariness 
 had he dreamed of the deadly perils that 
 lurked about her path. Of the fact that Val- 
 dez and his few followers had eventually fled 
 northward and across the road to the Cata 
 mount he had heard nothing. Through 
 Hop Ling's chatter he had gathered that 
 Grafton and his men were gone in search of 
 Florence and that Mrs. Hayne and Dr. Gould 
 were at Jose's. He dare not stop to make in 
 quiries at the garrison. He was under medi 
 cal care therefore under doctor's orders, and
 
 260 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 on complaint of the acting surgeon it would be 
 perfectly competent for Buxton to place him 
 in close arrest. His one idea, therefore, was 
 to put as much ground as possible between 
 the post and himself. He knew he could get 
 another horse at Jose's, so Brown Dick was 
 never spared an instant. At three o'clock, 
 galloping free, the gallant horse was stretch 
 ing away northwestward over the low, rolling 
 earth-waves that seemed to spread to the very 
 lap of the Mescalero, spanning the horizon 
 toward the setting sun. Far behind him, 
 the scattered ranches and the sparse green 
 foliage of the Santa Clara. Far away on 
 either hand, the lumpy, sandy barren, dotted 
 everywhere with little dull-hued tufts of 
 coarse herbage or stunted sage. Ahead of 
 him the tortuous, twisting, dusty trail, dented 
 with scores of hoof-prints, the tracks of Graf- 
 ton's troop on its way to the rescue. By this 
 time Randy was burning with thirst, but the 
 water in his canteen was warm and nauseat 
 ing. He raised the felt-covered flask to his 
 lips from time to time and rinsed his mouth 
 and moistened his parching throat, but that
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 261 
 
 did not allay the craving. He had still thirty 
 miles to go before he could reach Jose's and 
 exchange Brown Dick for a broncho, and have 
 Dr. Gould renew the dressing of his wounded 
 arm. He knew that Florence had failed to 
 appear there, but he knew her pluck and 
 spirit, and believed he knew the reason that 
 there might be sojourners there either from 
 the Catamount or from the post who would 
 seek to turn her back or hold her there ; and 
 he knew that in her overwrought, half-mad 
 dened state she was starving for her mother's 
 petting and her father's arms. He knew her 
 so well that any attempt to dissuade her now 
 would result, he felt assured, only in frantic 
 outburst and more determined effort to push 
 ahead. 
 
 Then he had another and even better rea 
 son for thinking he could quickly find Mig- 
 non's trail, although it might be miles to the 
 mortfr of Jose's. On ; their return from their 
 latest visit to: the Catamount they were hav 
 ing a glorious run with the hounds one lovely 
 November morning, and the jack-rabbits led 
 them far out to the north of the road among
 
 262 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 the buttes and bowlders that clustered about 
 the course of a little stream, barely a yard 
 wide anywhere, that rippled out from among 
 the foothills only to be lost in the sands of 
 the desert to the east. One vigorous old rab 
 bit, close followed by the hounds, had tacked 
 suddenly and darted up this narrow valley, 
 and Floy and Mignon, all excitement, darted 
 after him, while Randy, guiding Brown Dick 
 behind, watched with fond, proud eyes his 
 young wife's graceful, fearless riding. Far 
 up toward the head of the brook poor jack 
 had been tossed in air by the pointed muzzle 
 of his closest pursuer and then pounced upon 
 by the panting hounds, and Randy found that 
 they were in a little amphitheatre among the 
 buttes found the little spring in which the 
 streamlet had its birth, and there they dis 
 mounted and unsaddled and let the horses 
 roll; and here they took their luncheon, and 
 had a happy, loving hour, all alone with the 
 horses and hounds in this little world of their 
 own; and Floy had named the spot a fond, 
 foolish little caprice, perhaps, and vowed that 
 it was to be her refuge by-and-by. " This is
 
 A\ ARMY WIFE. 263 
 
 where I am coming to build my lonely cloister 
 one of these days, when you grow weary of 
 me, sir," she had laughingly said. And now, 
 as he plied spurs to Dick's heaving sides, 
 Randy wondered, wondered whether it might 
 not be that she had made that wide detour 
 around Jose's purposely to find and revisit 
 that romantic little nook and there pour out 
 her grief to the solitude of the silent foot 
 hills. 
 
 At five o'clock Brown Dick was black with 
 sweat and dust and streaked with foam, but 
 still pressed gamely on, and Randy, with 
 white, set face, in which deep lines of pain 
 and weariness were graving, gazed fixedly 
 ahead with burning, fevered eyes, conscious 
 that strength was failing him and praying for 
 the first sight of those dun adobe walls of 
 Jose's sheltering ranch. 
 
 Just at seven o'clock of the early winter's 
 evening the denizens of Jose's heard the 
 thud of horse's hoofs at the gate and the hail 
 of a feeble voice. Jose's wife at that moment 
 was in half-tearful talk with Mrs. Hayne, who 
 from dawn till dark had been on watch hop-
 
 264 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 ing against hope for tidings of Florence, and 
 who now, wearied with long vigil and well- 
 nigh worn out with anxiety, was lying down 
 in search of sleep. Gould, veteran soldier 
 and surgeon that he was, could no longer bear 
 the suspense and inaction at the ranch. He 
 had borrowed one of Jose's horses, and, with 
 a half-breed Mexican for guide, had ridden 
 away at dawn, hoping to strike Graf ton's 
 trail and follow him into the mountains, 
 whither he was supposed to have ridden in 
 pursuit of the Apaches. Gould was a skeptic. 
 He said he didn't believe a dozen Apaches 
 were off their reservation. He didn't believe 
 half a dozen had ventured over the New Mex 
 ican line, and if any had he was willing to bet 
 a month's pay they were not hostile. This 
 was comforting to Mrs. Hayne, but Jose's 
 people were not so easily cured of their con 
 viction. By the time the rumor reached the 
 ranch, brought in by stampeded herdsmen, no 
 one of whom had seen an Indian but each of 
 whom could tell tremendous tales of their do 
 ings in the valley, it was declared that at least 
 fifty of Victorio's old band were raiding the
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 265 
 
 Santa Clara and might be expected to assault 
 Jose's at any moment. The corral was filled, 
 therefore, with scraggy cow ponies and 
 swarthy men, and the sight of an officer, one- 
 armed, pallid, exhausted, reeling earthward 
 from an equally exhausted steed, was all that 
 was necessary to complete the panic. Over 
 half the Mexicans present made a mad rush 
 for the subterranean refuge known as the 
 "dug-out," and but for a couple of troopers 
 who had put into Jose's with lamed and use 
 less horses Randy would have gone headlong 
 to the ground. They caught him just in time, 
 and bore him inside the ranch, where the 
 sight of his death-like face drove Jose almost 
 frantic. But the troopers knew what to do 
 for their officer and speedily brought him 
 round, and when he asked for Dr. Gould 
 they told him of his going, and Randy's next 
 demand was for coffee and a fresh horse. 
 
 And while he was sipping the coffee and 
 resting on a bunk in the main room, Mrs. 
 Hayne came hastening in with outstretched 
 hands and eyes still dim with weeping. She 
 was shocked at his haggard appearance. She
 
 266 AN- ARMY WIFE. 
 
 could only press his hand in silent sympathy 
 and struggle hard to beat back the tears that 
 would have flowed afresh. "You will stay 
 here with us now until Dr. Gould returns," 
 she said. " I look for him any moment." 
 
 "I? No, indeed. I go on at once, as soon 
 as they can saddle a fresh horse for me. She 
 must be more than half-way to the cantonment 
 by this time, if Mignon hasn't given out." 
 
 And then Mrs. Hayne sobbed aloud. "Oh, 
 Randy, Randy! Haven't you heard? Floy 
 never regained the road at all. The mail car 
 rier from Catamount got in an hour ago and 
 saw nothing whatever of her." 
 
 " Then I know where to find her," said Ran 
 dy promptly. " A lovely spot we visited to 
 gether hardly a month ago, and I could find 
 it easily after moonrise." 
 
 But Mrs. Hayne only sobbed the more. 
 How could she tell him ? Yet it had to be. 
 
 "God grant it," she cried. "God grant it! 
 But, oh, my friend, we've had a dreadful 
 fright! Captain Grafton's men struck an 
 Apache trail yesterday, and they are follow 
 ing it fast as they can go at this moment."
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 267 
 
 And with that announcement vanished all 
 thought of further rest for him. Bidding the 
 two troopers saddle anything on four legs that 
 could carry them, he sprang forth into the still 
 and radiant night and was astride his mon 
 grel mount in a twinkling. In vain Mrs. 
 Hayne came out and pleaded with him ; Mer- 
 riam would listen to nothing nothing but 
 tidings of Florence. It was barely eight 
 o'clock when, fully armed, the little party 
 rode swiftly away under the northward stars, 
 following an old trail that led to the upper 
 foothills of the Mescalero. They were not 
 half an hour gone when a sergeant and two 
 men rode in from the west, inquiring for Dr. 
 Gould and Mrs. Hayne. They were three of 
 Graf ton's men sent back from the chase to say 
 they were hot on the trail. There were five 
 Apaches afoot and one shod horse so the 
 traces told infallibly. Florence, then, was 
 probably bound a prisoner on that horse, and 
 Grafton would recapture her or lose every 
 horse and man in the attempt. 
 
 And if that night was one of dread and de 
 jection at the ranch, what must it have been
 
 268 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 to Merriam, reeling and well-nigh exhaust 
 ed, yet riding grimly, desperately forward 
 through the long hours, searching vainly, 
 vainly under the wan moonlight, even along 
 into the pallid dawn, for that little cleft in 
 the foothills Floy had named " Mon Abri." 
 Faint and shimmering the day-beams came at 
 last, and then, and not until then, Murdock, a 
 faithful trooper, now riding by his lieuten 
 ant's side and supporting him with his arm, 
 turned to his comrade, who, dismounted, was 
 striving with the aid of a match or two to 
 study some hoof-prints they had found in 
 the soft surface. "Jimmy," he whispered, 
 "there's something moving along that ridge 
 yonder coming this way. What is it?" 
 
 And though soft the whisper it caught poor 
 Randy's drowsy ear, and he strove to straight 
 en up in saddle. "What? Where?" he 
 faintly asked. 
 
 " Yonder, sir, not half a mile away. It's 
 some of our fellows, or I'm a duffer. Yell to 
 'em, Jimmy." 
 
 And obedient to the word Jimmy yelled. 
 Over the rolling surface the soldier's voice
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 269 
 
 went ringing through the dawn, and echo 
 sent it clattering back from the buttes and 
 bowlders to the west. "This way, you fel 
 lers! this way!" he cried, and then, mount 
 ing, clapped spurs to his pony and sputtered 
 away down the intervening swale. 
 
 Ten minutes later Randy Merriam was ly 
 ing on the ground in a swoon, and George 
 Grafton, with grave, sad face, well-nigh as 
 haggard as the lieutenant's, was bending over 
 him and striving to force some brandy down 
 his throat. Following "for all they were 
 worth" the Apache trail, they had overhauled 
 the supposed marauders not twenty miles 
 back in the foothills a pacific hunting-party, 
 provided with the agency pass and safeguard, 
 and culpable only in that they had come too 
 far and had picked up on the plains an Amer 
 ican horse, abandoned at sight of them by 
 some Mexicans, who galloped far away; and 
 that American horse, minus saddle and bridle, 
 was Floy's pretty bay mare, Mignon. 
 
 Then where in heaven's name was she? 
 
 It was some minutes before Merriam re 
 vived. Then he strove to stagger to his feet.
 
 276 AM ARMY WIFE. 
 
 but fell helplessly back. It was nearly broad 
 daylight, but the sun was still below the dis 
 tant Guadaloupe. Gathering his feeble ener 
 gies, Randy strove to describe the little cove 
 and to implore Grafton to bear him thither, 
 and was interrupted by an eager sergeant, 
 who said: "We passed just such a brook, sir, 
 not a mile back. Shall I take half-a-dozen 
 men and follow it up?" 
 
 "Yes, at once," said Grafton, "and I'll go, 
 too. Stay here, Randy." Indeed, the cau 
 tion was not needed, for Merriam was past 
 moving now, poor fellow, and his head sank 
 helplessly back upon the soldier's supporting 
 arm. And then they rode away, Grafton and 
 half-a-dozen of his men, with Mignon, leg 
 weary and reluctant, trailing behind. And 
 meantime the troop dismounted and set about 
 making coffee, while one orderly rode back on 
 the trail to summon Dr. Gould, jogging wear 
 ily a mile behind. And presently the doctor 
 came and knelt by Randy's side and scolded 
 through his set teeth, even while he skilfully 
 stripped away the hunting-shirt and so reached 
 the shattered arm.
 
 AN ARMY WIF. 271 
 
 Then came the glorious sunshine streaming 
 over the Guadaloupe and gilding the west 
 ward Mescalero, and then far out among the 
 buttes, one two three, at regular intervals, 
 the ringing, echoing signals of the cavalry 
 carbine ; and rough-garbed troopers sprang to 
 their feet and shouted loud, and clapped ball 
 cartridge into the brown bellies of their guns, 
 and fired unlicensed salvos into the air, and 
 danced and swung their hats, and drew coarse 
 flannel shirt-sleeves across their blinking eyes 
 all at Sergeant Hogan's jubilant cry, "My 
 God, boys, they've found her!" 
 
 Found her they had, indeed, curled up like 
 a child, wrapped in her own pet Navajo blan 
 ket, sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion, 
 and waking only to burst into tears of relief 
 and joy at sight of Graf ton's radiant yet hag 
 gard face ; then roused to instant action by the 
 tidings he bore and gently, but reproachfully, 
 told her that, though sorely wounded and well- 
 nigh exhausted, it was Randy who guided the 
 rescuers to her, and who now lay prostrate 
 and unconscious barely a mile away. Then 
 she could hardly wait for them to saddle Mig-
 
 272 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 non could hardly urge her laboring favorite 
 fast enough to match her mad impatience. It 
 was a sight to move a heart of flint to see her, 
 as with streaming eyes and convulsive sobs 
 she threw herself from her saddle, and, reck 
 less of them all, knelt and gathered Randy's 
 unconscious head to her bosom, cooing over 
 him, crying over him, praying over him, beg 
 ging for one word of love and pardon, then 
 showering tears and kisses on his pallid lips. 
 There was no crime of which the poor child 
 did not accuse herself, for on their hurried 
 way Graf ton gravely told her of Randy's 
 utter innocence and of his own culpability. 
 Not until the radiant sun was nearly an hour 
 high did their patient seem to respond to stim 
 ulant or caress; but at last, to her wild joy, he 
 opened his eyes a little moment, looked up in 
 her face, whispered, "Florence, sweetheart," 
 and then seemed to drop away into resistless 
 slumber. 
 
 "A pretty time we had," said Gould, "get 
 ting that pair of spoons back to Jose's 1" It 
 was an all-day's job, between waiting for the 
 ambulance and then finding an easy road for
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 273 
 
 it. But there at Jose's were "the spoons" 
 condemned to stay four days and nights, at 
 least, while the rest of Sedgwick's scouting 
 parties drifted back to the post, and there pre 
 sumably Florence made her peace with her 
 lover lord, and wept gallons of salt tears as 
 she told him how wicked wicked wicked 
 she had been, and how penitent she was and 
 how severely punished, though never so se 
 verely as she deserved. She would listen to 
 no condoning words of Mrs. Hayne. She 
 flung herself into her father's arms when, 
 white-faced and ten years aged, he reached 
 her at the ranch, and told him what a fiend 
 she had been and what an angel Randy a 
 statement the captain could not entirely in 
 dorse, for he went back to the cantonment at 
 the end of the week confident still that there 
 must have been something in Randy's con 
 duct to undermine the faith of such an unus 
 ual girl as his Brownie. But he did not say 
 so it would have done no good. 
 
 And her story was very simple. Nearing 
 the ranch early in the first afternoon, she saw 
 
 a party of horsemen riding in toward it, and 
 18
 
 274 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 in her half-crazed state she believed them 
 troops from the post Randy's men. So she 
 turned square to the north and rode for the 
 foothills. She had a little store of provisions 
 and some wine in the large saddle-pouch, and 
 only then discovered that her bag was gone. 
 She could ride away round the ranch, find 
 " Mon Abri," and hide there during the night. 
 She had her Navajo blanket. Mignon would 
 have grass and water. What more could 
 army girl ask in that warm and rainless re 
 gion? Before sunset she had found the ro 
 mantic little spot, unsaddled and picketed 
 Mignon, and later moved her farther down 
 stream for fresh grass, and then, wearied, she 
 herself slept for hours ; and when she awoke 
 and would have pushed on to the cantonment, 
 lo! Mignon was gone. Florence had heard 
 no sound. She could not account for it. She 
 could only sit and brood and think, and then, 
 as the long, long day the second day drew 
 to its close, pray heaven for Randy's coming. 
 There, more surely than anywhere else, if he 
 loved her, his love would lead him. 
 
 What days of jubilee there were at Sedg-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 275 
 
 wick when at last Randy was convalescent 
 enough to be moved, and the ambulance 
 brought him back through the same old hole 
 in the fence, Florence seated by his side. 
 Another patient was out on a piazza farther 
 down the row, taking the sweet fresh air and 
 listening languidly to the purring of Minturn, 
 who still worshipped at the shrine deserted 
 by Whittaker. Undeniably sallow looked the 
 Widow McLane, and her eyes gazed but lan 
 guidly at the joyous little cortege entering the 
 westward end of the road. Captain and Mrs. 
 Grafton, the Haynes, and other sympathizing 
 friends had flocked thither to welcome the fu 
 gitives, and so it happened that there was no 
 one at home but Mrs. McLane and a much per 
 turbed young battery officer to greet two 
 somewhat dusty civilians, who had just driven 
 out from the Junction, and now slowly as 
 cended the Graftons' steps. One Mr. Parry 
 came jauntily forward. The other a mut 
 ton-chop whiskered, plethoric-looking party 
 hung reverentially back, as though waiting 
 permission to venture into the presence of 
 a queen. With swift, anxious, imploring
 
 276 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 glance the invalid searched the impassive 
 features of her exasperating brother-in-law 
 and read no hope ; but even from the depth of 
 her despond sprang something of her old-time 
 coquetry as she languidly lay back in the easy- 
 chair and extended a slender, bejewelled hand 
 to the adoring Swinburne. The batteryman 
 bowed stiffly and pulled at his mustache in 
 recognition of this new arrival, and Ned Parry 
 almost audibly chuckled his enjoyment of the 
 situation. Then stable call sounded and drew 
 the warrior away and left the field in the 
 hands of the civilian, and then Parry decided 
 he must "join the gang" at Merriam's; and 
 there presently he was patting Randy on the 
 back and showing symptoms of a desire to 
 kiss Mrs. Randy's hand, as he did Mrs. Graf- 
 ton's. Mrs. Graf ton hurried out, declaring 
 she must go and order more dinner, whereat 
 Parry followed her to the gate and called a 
 halt. She saw the twinkle in his eyes and 
 stopped. 
 
 "You've brought her good news, I know," 
 said she, with womanly eagerness. 
 
 "More than that," said Parry, with a comi-
 
 AN ARMY WIFE. 277 
 
 cal grin. " More than Fan deserves by a good 
 deal I've brought the fellow that brings her 
 the news. Never mind dinner give him ten 
 minutes." 
 
 "Oh, how did you get at the truth?" 
 
 "I didn't / couldn't. They were shy of 
 me as though I'd been a Pinkerton. I knew 
 Swinburne was sore-smitten. I knew he'd 
 blow in his whole bank account if need be. 
 I told him the story and my suspicions, and 
 set him to work. He found the engineer and 
 got the proofs. She owes her deliverance to 
 him." 
 
 " Then it was as you thought as you told 
 Captain Grafton?" 
 
 "Certainly. Mrs. McLane No. i died two 
 months after she got her twenty-five thousand 
 dollars, but the family couldn't afford to lose 
 so fruitful a member. They had read and 
 written each others' letters from childhood. 
 Either surviving sister could write just as well 
 as the youngest. They planned the game; 
 they fooled McLane completely, and they as 
 completely deceived poor young Jack, the 
 only reputable connection they had. Fan's,
 
 2 78 AN ARMY WIFE. 
 
 all right now, thanks to Swinburne. Let him 
 oe happy for ten minutes she'll make him 
 miserable the rest of his life. Let's go back 
 and look at a picture of absolute bliss Floy 
 Merriam's face. Isn't she an ideal army 
 wife?" 
 
 THE END.
 
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 The King in Yellow. 
 
 BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS 
 
 Edward " The authoj Is a genius without a living equal, 
 Ellis so far as I am aware, in his peculiar field. It 
 
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 eral times, captivated by the unapproachable tints of the 
 painting. None but a genius of the highest order could 
 do such work." 
 
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 create a sensation ; ... in any case it is the most 
 notable contribution to literature which has come from an 
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 perceptible in this volume of stories." 
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 World words; he is a good painter. His situations 
 
 are most delicately touched, and some of his descriptions 
 are exquisite. He writes like an artist. He uses colors 
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 IN THE QUARTER, 
 
 BV ROBERT v. CHAMBERS, 
 
 Author of "The King ic Yellow." 
 
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