"Oh, Mr. Brayton, how heavenly!" she exclaimed. "Don't let us lose an instant of that waltz." Over his glittering shoulder she beamed in parting a bewitching smile, levelled all at Barclay, and glided away, a floating cloud of filmy drapery, a vision of flashing eyes, of flushing cheeks, of dazzling white teeth gleaming between the parted rose-leaves of her mouth, of snowy shoulders and shapely arms, of peeping, pointed, satin-shod feet, the handsomest creature in all that crowded room, and the most dismally unhappy. She had met him in the witnessing presence of all Fort Worth, and all the garrison saw that she had sustained a crushing defeat. She who was to have been his wife and had duped him, she who had looked to subjugate him once more, was duped in turn, the victim of her own vanity.
"And to think," said Mrs. De Lancy, "she only changed her half-mourning a month ago, and now—in full ball costume!"
Fort Worth didn't stop talking of that episode for all of another week, and that, too, in the face of other interesting matter.
To begin with, Sergeant Marsden had disappeared as though from the face of the earth. Whither he had fled no man could say. No settlement worth the name had not been searched, no ranch remained unvisited. Fuller's people would not shield the fugitive, for Fuller, as the post sutler, suffered equally with Uncle Sam from the sergeant's depredations. Settlers and ranch people who bought of the latter cut into the business of the former, and Fuller would most gladly have had him "rounded up" long weeks ago; but Marsden and his few confederates in the garrison had admirably covered their tracks, and the indications of declining trade that had roused the sutler's suspicions led to no arousal of vigilance within the sentry line: wherefore Fuller's heart was hardened against the post commander and the erstwhile commissary, and this, too, at a time when the latter stood in sorest need of financial help. The extent of poor Winn's losses and responsibility was now known: so far as his commissary accounts were concerned, not a cent less than three thousand dollars would cover them. The quartermaster was out a horse and equipments, and several confiding enlisted men and laundresses were defrauded of money loaned the dashing sergeant. Uncle Sam, be it known, has summary methods as a bill-collector. He simply stops his servant's pay until the amount due is fully met. Winn's total pay and emoluments as computed in '70 and '71 would barely serve in two years to square himself with his exacting Uncle. Meantime, what were wife and baby and other claimants to do? What was he to live on, and so insure payment of which his death would destroy all possibility? Crushed as Winn was, there were men and women who roundly scored his wife for appearing superbly dressed at the first ball graced by the presence of her discarded lover. Yet had she stayed away, their disappointment would have exceeded this disapprobation. Collabone said his patient suffered from a low fever, which the unprofessional found difficult to understand, in view of Mrs. Winn's diagnosis, which declared it alarmingly high. Certain it is that he kept his room until four days after the evening of the ball; then he had to turn out and face the music, for orders came from "San Antone."
Then, too, came another invoice of interesting matter to Fort Worth, and it must be remembered that, in the narrow and restricted life of the far frontier, interest existed in matters that seem too trivial for mention in the broader spheres of the metropolis. The invoice was an actual and material fact, and consisted of a big wagon-load of household goods consigned to Captain Barclay, accompanied by a dignified Ethiopian and two very knowing-looking horses that had many of the points of thoroughbreds. The quartermaster's train under proper escort had made the long pull from Department Head-Quarters, and all unannounced came these chattels to the new troop leader. The very next morning, which was a Sunday, when Brooks's four troops formed line for inspection in the old-fashioned full dress of the cavalry, the men in shell jackets and plumed felt hats, the officers in long-skirted, clerical-looking frock-coats, black ostrich plumes, gold epaulets, and crimson sashes, there rode at the head of Lawrence's old troop a new captain, whose horse and equipments became the centre of critical and admiring eyes the moment it was possible for his comrades to leave their commands and gather about him. Very few officers in those days possessed anything better than the regulation troop bridle and raw-hide McClellan saddle, which with their folded blankets satisfied all the modest requirements of the frontier. The light-batterymen indulged in a little more style and had picturesque red blankets to help out, but even they were put in the shade, and came trotting over during the rest after Brooks had made the formal ride round to look at the general appearance of his command. All hands seemed to gather in approbation about Barclay's charger. The horse himself was a bright, blooded bay, with jet-black, waving mane, tail, and forelock, superb head, shoulders and haunches, and nimble legs, all handsomely set off by a glistening bridle with double rein, martingale, glossy breast-strap and polished bits, curb-chain, bosses, rings, and heart, with the regimental number in silver on the bosses and at the corner of the handsome shabraque of dark blue cloth, patent leather, and the yellow edging and trimming of the cavalry. "The only outfit of the kind at Worth," said Brooks, emphatically. "And yet, gentlemen," he continued, seeing latent criticism in the eyes of certain of the circle, "it's all strictly in accordance with regulations, and just as we used to have it in the old days before the war. I wish we all had the same now. I haven't seen a Grimsley outfit since '61."
"Grimsley it is," said the veteran captain of the light battery. "Mine went to Richmond in '61 with what we didn't save of our battery at First Bull Run."
"Grimsley it is," said his junior subaltern. "If Sam Waring could only see that, he'd turn green with envy to-day and borrow it to-morrow." Whereat there went up a laugh, for Waring was a man of mark in the queer old days of the army.
Then of course every one wanted to know, as the cavalcade rode from the drill-ground up to the post, where Barclay had bought his horses, and some inquired how much they cost; and to all queries of the kind Barclay answered, with perfect good humor, that he had ordered the equipments of the old firm of Grimsley, still doing business in St. Louis, as it did in the days when Jefferson Barracks and Leavenworth and Riley were famous cavalry stations in the '50s; the horses he had bought of a family connection in Kentucky, and had given seven hundred dollars for the pair.
"See here, Hodge," growled the old stagers as they clustered about the club-room, sipping cooling drinks after the warm morning exercise, "what's all this you've been telling us about Barclay's inexpensive, economical, and skimpy ways? He's got the outfit of a British field-marshal, by gad!"
But Hodge was too much concerned and confounded to speak. "It's more'n I can explain," he said. "Why, he wouldn't spend ten cents in Wyoming."