The Crossed Sabres (26 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pets?”

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

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

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

“Is that all?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A ride by the river sound all right?”

“A short one, Lieutenant.”

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

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

“Do you come often, Spence?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

“Were you friends?”

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

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

He searched her face as she spoke, admiring the smoothness of her cheeks, soft even in the cold air. She seemed set apart from other women he knew.

“Yes, I’d change one thing,” he said. “I wish I’d never told some of the women I’ve known how much I love them.” He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, pulling her around to face him. “Because now I’d like to say some things to you, things I feel. I wish I could say those words to you for the first time.”

Faith felt the impulses that ran through him, powerful and demanding. As he pulled her closer, she did not draw back—as one part of her knew she should—and when he kissed her, part of her responded.

But it was only part of her, and Grayson sensed her withdrawal. At once, he pulled away, something he would not have done with another woman. “You see?” he said, making a gesture with his hands. “You don’t think of me as a man you might grow fond of.”

“Spence, you wouldn’t want me,” Faith protested. “We’re as far apart as any two people can be. We don’t want the same things, not at all.”

“I want love, Faith, and so do you. I could tell that much,
even from one kiss. If I’ve learned anything from the life I’ve led, it’s that hell is being alone.”

“What a strange thing for you to say!”

“Because I’m outgoing, because I get along with people?” He shook his head. “A man or a woman can be alone in a crowd of a thousand people, Faith.” He turned to her, and his smooth features were carved into sharp planes by the light of the moon. “But with just one person—if it’s the right one—there’s no need for anyone else. The whole world is right there—in that one woman.”

His words disturbed Faith, and she knew it was because she had felt he was too proud to know a thing like that. It made her look at him differently, for she knew he spoke the truth. She took a deep breath, let it out, then said quietly, “Take me home, Spence.”

“All right.”

The hooves of the horses made a steady
plopping
sound as they drove back to town, and when he pulled up in front of the Owens’ house, she got out at once. He followed her to the steps, pulled off his hat, and said, “Thanks for going with me to the ball.”

“I enjoyed it, Spence.”

“How about riding with me this week?”

Faith hesitated, then said, “I don’t want to, Spence. We shouldn’t see each other.”

“Don’t you think men can change, Faith?”

“Of course!”

“Then you must believe me when I say I’m changing. You’ve affected me as no other woman has. I’ve always had to conquer the woman I was attracted to, no matter what it took; but with you, it’s not like that. Why, I don’t understand, couldn’t explain. It’s . . .well, other women I wanted to
take
from—you, Faith, I want to
give
to. That’s love, isn’t it?”

Faith shook her head, and as soberly as she had ever spoken, said, “It can never be, Spence. I’ve given my life to God.”

“Are all Christian women single? None of them have a husband?”

“Of course they do, but if I ever married, I’d want my husband to feel as I do about what’s important in life.”

When he didn’t argue or beg, Faith appreciated that in him. “Good-night, Spence,” she whispered. At the door, she turned and said, “I’ll go riding with you—but that’s all it is. Just a ride.”

Grayson drove back to the fort, sobered by the way the evening had ended—especially by his own behavior. He knew he had little chance with Faith, but he was a man of great confidence and went to bed thinking of her promise. As he lay there, suddenly pictures of Marlene Signourey . . .Winslow flashed into his mind—and a spurt of fear shot through him. Not fear of the physical, for he was no coward, but he became keenly aware that the patterns of a man’s life could haunt him. Would his? He had loved Marlene as he had loved no other woman—at least until now. His mind shifted to Faith, and for a long time he lay there thinking of her, of the moonlight on her face, the innocence in her.

I’ve got to have her!
he thought, the desire consuming him with such restlessness his mind became a battleground against the shadows gathering around his bed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A Buggy Ride

The flu that had hit Laurence Dutton proved to be more serious than anyone thought, progressing from a cough, to a high fever, to a state of almost complete helplessness. Double pneumonia, the doctor suspected, adding, “You can forget about teaching school, Dutton, for two or three weeks at least. We don’t have a hospital, but you need some nursing care.”

This latter proved to be more difficult than the doctor supposed, for other families were sick as well. For a while women divided their time caring for Dutton, though it was spasmodic at best.

Help came from a most surprising source as Eileen Jennings offered to nurse the schoolmaster; but when his condition worsened, she said as she looked at his feverish face, “This won’t do. You must have better care.”

Dutton’s temperature had shot up, making him light-headed, his eyes glazed, his tongue parched. He licked his lips and whispered hoarsely, “Guess it’s the best we can do—”

Fortunately he was mistaken, for later in the day Eileen returned with two privates from B Company. “Put him in the ambulance,” she commanded with the authority of a sergeant. “Wrap him well in those blankets, and I’ll get his things.”