Both of the doctor's patients in a short time received some excellent nourishment, prepared by the hospital steward out of the medical stores, under the surgeon's direction, reviving the wounded girl materially and putting Jack fairly "on his feet" again, for he was "as tough as a knot."
About half-past two the column was ready to move out. Susie was made comfortable on a litter, fashioned after the Indian method of transporting their wounded, constructed of saplings and blankets, which was carefully slung between two pack-mules of the supply train, respectively led by two troopers detailed for that duty. This novel equipage the colonel ordered to march in advance of the column, so that the dust raised by the company's horses should not annoy Susie; while Jack, who was able to mount Tatonka, though he was terribly sore and stiff, rode alongside of her and piloted the command on the trail. Before they left the ruined ranch, however, the colonel caused the bodies of the unfortunate Réaumes to be temporarily interred and large stones put over their graves, to prevent the wolves from digging up and eating the flesh off their bones, as it was Hart's intention to have them taken to the post and decently buried in the little cemetery there.
After an eventful march the command arrived at Fort Harker just as the sun was setting, where Susie was kindly cared for, and Jack went to his own quarters, to be patched up and plastered by the post surgeon.
Hart was out and ready for duty inside of a week; but Susie did not gain rapidly. She seemed to be slowly wasting away with a fever, though the wound in her side had closed, and there was no longer danger from that source. It was the terrible agony of her soul; she did not complain, and the doctor was puzzled. The awful mental strain incident to what she had passed through, coupled with the morbid fear that the marriage with the man she loved could not be consummated, was doing its work. Only time, the great healer of sorrows, could bring relief, and both she and Jack were impatient.
The weeks dragged their weary length along, and the golden October days came before she was convalescent; but with that subdivision of the year came also the inauguration of that celebrated winter campaign against the allied tribes, for which Gen. Sheridan had been making vigorous preparations all summer. Of course there could be no marriage now until the war was over, and it lasted (officially) for one hundred and sixty-three days, counting from the 21st of October, but virtually ending with Gen. Custer's annihilation of Black Kettle and his band of warriors in the battle of the Washita, in November.
At last, in May, 1869, that month of floral beauty on the Central Plains, on a delicious Sabbath morning, Jack and Susie were married by the post chaplain in the large unoccupied ward of the hospital at Fort Harker, which had been garlanded with wild flowers, roses predominating, and great bunches of the creamy-petaled yucca, for the occasion.
Gens. Sheridan, Custer, Sully, and all the officers, with their wives, who were part of the garrison stationed there, graced the ceremony with their presence. Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, and all the other famous scouts on duty at Fort Harker, were also present; and many substantial presents were received from all the distinguished guests by the favored couple.
Nearly a quarter of a century has elapsed since then. All the famous generals mentioned are dead. Hart is now a prosperous ranchman, with large herds of mild-eyed Jerseys and broad-backed Shorthorns peacefully grazing in his extensive pastures. On the porch of his beautiful home, Susie, now a stately matron, and Jack with his pipe in his mouth, may be seen sitting in their large arm-chairs at the close of day, resting from the labors the ranch imposes. A bevy of handsome children are busy with hammock or swing under the great trees of the lawn; and as the twilight gathers, the old folks relate to the little ones the story of those terrible hours on the Elkhorn so many years ago—a picture on "memory's walls" that time can never efface.