Betty at Fort Blizzard Part 16

Something between a sob and a groan burst from the Sergeant.

"I've worn chevrons for twenty-seven years, sir," he said. "I was made a sergeant when I was twenty-five. I've handled all sorts of men and licked 'em into shape and I ain't got it on my conscience as I ever tried to make a man's lot any harder, or to discourage him, and I never spoke an insultin' word to a soldier in my life, and I hope I'll be called to report to the Great Commander before I do. But I said something chaffin'-like to that poor devil and he struck me, and I didn't hit him back--I didn't hit him back, thank G.o.d, nor threaten to report him. But I had to tell the truth to the Colonel and take part of the blame on myself."

"That's right," answered Broussard with deep feeling. The Sergeant little knew how great a stake Broussard had in the business.

"And the chaplain, he seen something was wrong with me and so did Missis McGillicuddy--she's a soldier, sir, is Missis McGillicuddy. I made a clean breast of it to the chaplain and he helped me a lot. I've been goin' to church on Sundays ever since I was married--to tell you the truth, sir, Missis McGillicuddy marched me off every Sunday without askin' me if it was agreeable, any more than she'd ask Ignatius or Aloysius. But since my trouble, I've gone of my own will, and I've headed the prayin' squad, I can tell you, Mr. Broussard."

"And you took good care of the boy, you and Mrs. McGillicuddy," said Broussard, who had learned of it from the letter written by Anita at Mrs.

Lawrence's request. The Sergeant took off his cap for a moment, baring his grey head to the biting cold.

"The best we could, so help me G.o.d. There wasn't nothin' me and Missis McGillicuddy could do for the kid as we didn't do. The chaplain told us we done too much, we was over-indulgent to the boy. But we taught him to do right, although we give him better food and better clothes than any of our own eight children ever had, and now----"

The Sergeant stood in silence for a moment, his cap once more in his hand, his head bowed. Broussard knew he was giving thanks.

Broussard, under cover of the darkness, took his way to the quarters which Mrs. Lawrence had never left. He knocked and, receiving no answer, entered the narrow pa.s.sage-way and walked into the little sitting-room.

Lawrence lay back in the arm chair in which his wife had spent so many hours of helpless misery. His face was paler than ever and his lank hair lay damp upon his forehead. Mrs. Lawrence, who had been suffering from the cruel malady known as a shamed and broken heart, sat by her husband, speaking words of cheer and tenderness. As Broussard entered she rose to her feet with new energy, no longer tottering as she walked, and placed both arms about Broussard's neck.

"Oh, my brother! The best of brothers," she cried and could say no more for her tears.

Presently they were sitting together, all externally calm, but all filled with a tense emotion.

"Try to persuade her," said Lawrence to Broussard, "to go away before the court-martial sits. It will be too much for her."

Mrs. Lawrence turned her dark eyes, once tragic but now br.i.m.m.i.n.g with light, full on Broussard. Broussard said to Lawrence:

"These angelic women are very obstinate."

"Would your mother, of whom my husband has told me so much, go away if she were in my place?"

Both Broussard and Lawrence remained silent.

"Then," said Mrs. Lawrence, "can you blame me if I act as your mother would act?"

Broussard took her hand and kissed it; the marks of toil upon it went to his soul.

"But the boy must be sent away," cried Lawrence.

"Yes, he may go," replied Mrs. Lawrence, "but I shall stay."

It was nearly seven o'clock, the hour for dinner at the officers' club, before Broussard left the Lawrences' quarters. All the men at the club were delighted to see Broussard, and all of them told him he looked seedy and every one who had served in the Philippines and had caught the jungle fever proposed a different regimen for him, but all agreed that Fort Blizzard was a good place to recuperate and that the "old man," as the commanding officer is always called, was rather a decent fellow, and might let him stay, and then they plunged into garrison news and gossip.

Broussard was thoroughly glad to be back once more at the handsome mess table, with the bright faces of the subalterns around him and the cheery talk and honest laughter, but his heart was full of other things--Anita Fortescue, for instance, and Lawrence and his wife and the little boy.

Some questions were asked him about Lawrence. Broussard replied briefly that he found the man in San Francisco trying to get back to Fort Blizzard; he wanted to give himself up at the scene of his crime and Broussard had paid for his railway ticket.

"And brought him with you to keep him from getting away," said Conway, "very judicious thing to do with men like Lawrence."

"I think he would have given himself up anyway," Broussard replied quietly.

Military justice is short and simple and severe. Within forty-eight hours the court-martial sat. As Lawrence marched into the courtroom between two soldiers, guarding him, his wife, dressed in black, as always, and with Mrs. McGillicuddy sitting near her, rose from her seat and took another one as close to her husband as she could get and smiled encouragement at him. Lawrence, watching her tender gaze, burst into tears.

It was all done very quickly. Sergeant McGillicuddy was one of the two witnesses, Broussard being the other. The Sergeant testified as if he were the criminal and not Lawrence. Broussard was the second witness and merely told of Lawrence coming to him in San Francisco, saying he wished to get to Fort Blizzard and give himself up. He could have done so at San Francis...o...b..t he wanted to see his wife and child and believed he would get more mercy at Fort Blizzard than any where else.

Then the prisoner was called to tell his story. He did it quietly and in a few words. He had no thought of deserting until he struck the Sergeant. Then he was frightened and ran away and, making the railway station, hid in a freight car and got away. He worked his way East, and found employment as a miner and was earning good wages, but his conscience troubled him, especially after he received a letter from his wife. He had got as far as San Francisco, which took all his savings, when he saw Mr. Broussard's name in the newspapers and went to see him.

He asked the mercy of the court.

The court was merciful, and gave him the shortest possible prison sentence, to be served out at the military prison of Fort Blizzard. All the officers kept their eyes turned from the pale woman in black, sitting close to the prisoner. They wished to do justice and not to be turned from it by a woman's pleading eyes.

CHAPTER VIII

LOVE, THE CONQUEROR

Broussard meant to spend his three months' leave in the pursuit of happiness at Fort Blizzard, where he could see Anita every day if he wanted--and he always wanted to see Anita. She was now nearing her nineteenth birthday and could hardly be considered the infant which Colonel Fortescue continued to proclaim her to be.

The day after Broussard's arrival was Sunday and on Sunday afternoons.

Broussard knew he should find Anita at home. It was the pleasant custom in the C. O.'s house for Mrs. Fortescue to receive the young officers, for whom she always had a tender spot in her heart. Broussard was one of the later arrivals. Already through the great windows the blue peaks of ice were seen, touched with a moment's golden glory from the setting sun, and the purple shadows were softly descending upon the snow-white world.

The first member of the Fortescue household who met Broussard gave him a rapturous greeting. This was Kettle, who opened the ma.s.sive doors to visitors.

"Hi! Mr. Broussard, I cert'ny is glad to see you, and Miss 'Nita, she is right heah in the drawin'-room, and I spect she jump fer joy when she see you!" shouted Kettle, who was a child of nature and spoke the truth as he saw it.

"And I'm glad enough to get back to snow and ice after snakes and mosquitoes and Moros," replied Broussard.

Immediately a small financial transaction pa.s.sed between Broussard and Kettle, accompanied with the usual wink from Broussard and grin from Kettle.

"She doan' take no notice of none of 'em," whispered Kettle confidentially, "she jes' smile at 'em all and goes 'long thinkin' about you!"

This was most encouraging and Broussard considered it well worth a quarter.

As he entered the drawing-room, bright with a glowing wood fire, Anita, who was entrenched behind a little tea table, rose to greet him. She wore a little white gown and like another white gown of hers it had a train--Anita was very anxious to appear as old as possible. As Broussard spoke to Mrs. Fortescue, who received him with her usual graceful cordiality, they could hear from the plaza the band playing the solemn hymn which precedes the retreat on Sunday afternoons. Suddenly the sunset gun roared out, showing that the flag was descending from the flagstaff. At once, every one in the room rose and stood respectfully at attention until the flag came down. Broussard, in the friendly shadow of the tea table, held on a moment to Anita's hand. She looked straight away from Broussard, her red lips smiling at an infatuated second lieutenant on the other side of her, but her cheeks, already of a delicate rose color, hung out the scarlet flag which means, in love, a surrender. Broussard even felt a faint returning pressure of the fingers, so well screened that only they themselves knew of the meeting of the hands.

Then they all sat down again and the pleasant talk began once more, Anita taking her part with a subdued current of gaiety unusual in her, for, as Mrs. Fortescue was essentially L'Allegro, so Anita was by nature, Il Penseroso.

Once more, when the color-sergeant brought the flag in, and placed it in a corner of the fine drawing-room, all present stood up; then there was much merry chatter and tea and chaff and that universal kindliness which seems to develop around a friendly tea table. One thing surprised Broussard--not only that Anita appeared quite grown up but that she could talk of many things of which he had never before heard her speak. As for the Philippines, she had all the lore about them at her finger tips.

Broussard, watching her out of the tail of his eye, saw that she was no longer the adorable child, who lived with her birds and her violin, but an adorable woman, who had learned to think and feel and speak as a woman. How was it that she had read so many books on the Philippines?

"When did you begin your study of the Philippines?" asked the wily Broussard.

"Only since January," answered Anita; and realizing that she had unconsciously revealed a great secret she lowered her lashes and turned her violet eyes away from Broussard.

That night, over his last cigar in his room at the officers' club, Broussard began to plan a regular campaign for Anita against Colonel Fortescue. But ever in the midst of it would come those sweet inadvertent words of Anita's and Broussard would fall into a delicious reverie with which Colonel Fortescue had no part. But then Broussard would come back to the real business of the matter--outgeneralling Colonel Fortescue--for everybody knew how devoted Anita was to her father and Broussard considered the C. O. as a lion in his path. Of course, the old curmudgeon, as Broussard in his own mind called the Colonel, would rake up a lot of imaginary objections--he always was a martinet, and would be a stiff proposition to master in the present emergency.

Broussard was tolerably certain of Mrs. Fortescue's a.s.sistance, who was an open and confessed sentimentalist, and was generally understood to be the guardian angel of all the love affairs at Fort Blizzard. Beverley Fortescue might be reckoned as a neutral, being himself in the toils of Sally Harlow, who was Anita's age. Then, Kettle and the After-Clap could be reckoned upon as auxiliaries--Broussard swore at himself for not remembering the After-Clap's existence that afternoon; Anita was ridiculously fond of the little chap.

But Colonel Fortescue would be a hard nut to crack--Broussard threw the stump of his cigar into the fire and thought all fathers of adorable daughters highly undesirable persons. After long and hard thinking Broussard concluded to begin at once an earnest and devoted courts.h.i.+p of Colonel Fortescue as the best way to win Anita.

"Because I'll have to court the old fellow anyhow, cuss him!" was Broussard's inner belief. "Anita will expect any man she marries to be as much in love with the Colonel as she is--so here goes!"

The very next morning Broussard began his open attentions to the Colonel and his secret wooing of Anita. He had plenty of opportunities for both.