Chapter 10

THERE is such good news to send you to-day I can hardly write it fast enough. The Territorial Court has been in session, and yesterday that horse thief, Billy Oliver, was tried and sentenced to ten years' imprisonment in the penitentiary! The sheriff and a posse started for Canon City this morning with him and another prisoner, and I hope that he will not make his escape on the way over. The sheriff told Faye confidentially the route he intended to take, which is not at all the one he is supposed to be going over, and threw out strong hints to the effect that if he wanted to put an end to the man's vicious career there would be no interference from him (the sheriff) or his posse. He even told Faye of a lonesome spot where it could be accomplished easily and safely!

This was a strange thing for a sheriff to do, even in this country of desperadoes, and shows what a fiend he considers Oliver to be. He said that the man was the leader of a gang of the lowest and boldest type of villains, and that even now it would be safer to have him out of the way. Sheriffs are afraid of these men, and do not like to be obliged to arrest them.

The day of the trial, and as Faye was about to go to the court room, a corporal came to the house and told him that he had just come from Las Animas, where he had heard from a reliable source that many of Oliver's friends were in the town, and that it was their intention to kill Faye as he came in the court room. He even described the man who was to do the dreadful work, and he told Faye that if he went over without an escort he would certainly be killed.

This was simply maddening, and I begged Faye to ask for a guard, but he would not, insisting that there was not the least danger, that even a desperado would not dare shoot an army officer in Las Animas in a public place, for he knew he would be hung the next moment. That was all very well, but it seemed to me that it would be better to guard against the murder itself rather than think of what would be done to the murderer. I knew that the corporal would never have come to the house if he had not heard much that was alarming.

So Faye went over without a guard, but did condescend to wear his revolvers. He says that the first thing he saw as he entered the court room were six big, brawny cavalrymen, each one a picked man, selected for bravery and determination. Of course each trooper was armed with large government revolvers and a belt full of cartridges. He also saw that they were sitting near, and where they could watch every move of a man who answered precisely to the corporal's description, and as he passed on up through the crowd he almost touched him. His hair was long and hung down on his shoulders about a face that was villainous, and he was "armed to the teeth." There were other tough-looking men seated near this man, each one armed also.

Colonel Bissell had heard of the threat to kill Faye, and ordered a corporal, the very man who searched so bravely through the dark house for Oliver at Granada, and five privates to the court, with instructions to shoot at once the first and every man who made the slightest move to harm Faye! Those men knew very well what the soldiers were there for, and I imagine that after one look at their weather-beaten faces, which told of many an Indian campaign, the villains decided that it would be better to keep quiet and let Oliver manage his own affairs.

A sergeant and one or two privates were summoned by Oliver to give testimony against Faye, but each one told the same story, and said most emphatically that Faye had not done more than speak to the man in the line of duty, and as any officer would have done. Directly after guard mounting, and as the new guard marches up to the guardhouse, the old guard is ordered out, also the prisoners, and the prisoners stand in the middle of the line with soldiers at each end, and every man, enlisted man and prisoner, is required to stand up straight and in line. It was at One of these times that Oliver claimed that Faye kicked him, when he was officer of the day. Faye and Major Tilford say that the man was slouching, and Faye told him to stand up and take his hands out of his pockets. A small thing to murder an officer for, but I imagine that any sort of discipline to a man of his character was most distasteful.

Of course Faye left the court room as soon as his testimony had been given. When the sentence was pronounced the judge requested all visitors to remain seated until after the prisoner had been removed, which showed that he was a little afraid of trouble, and knew the bitter feeling against the horse thief in the town. Several girls and young officers from the post were outside in an ambulance, and they commenced to cheer when told of the sentence, but the judge hurried a messenger out to them with a request that they make no demonstration whatever. He is a fearless and just judge, and it is a wonder that desperadoes have not killed him long ago.

Perhaps now I can have a little rest from the terrible fear that has been ever with me day and night during the whole winter, that Oliver would escape from the old jail and carry out his threat of double murder. He had made his escape once, and I feared that he might get out again. But that post and chain must have been very securely fixed down in that cellar.

FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY, June, 1874.

BY this time you have my letter telling you that the regiment has been ordered to the Department of the Gulf. Since then we have heard that it is to go directly to Holly Springs, Mississippi, for the summer, where a large camp is to be established. Just imagine what the suffering will be, to go from this dry climate to the humidity of the South, and from cool, thick-walled adobe buildings to hot, glary tents in the midst of summer heat! We will reach Holly Springs about the Fourth of July. Faye's allowance for baggage hardly carries more than trunks and a few chests of house linen and silver, so we are taking very few things with us. It is better to give them away than to pay for their transportation such a long distance.

Both horses have been sold and beautiful King has gone. The young man who bought him was a stranger here, and knew absolutely nothing about the horse except what some one in Las Animas had told him. He rode him around the yard only once, and then jumping down, pulled from his pocket a fat roll of bills, counted off the amount for horse, saddle, and bridle, and then, without saying one word more than a curt "good morning," he mounted the horse again and rode out of the yard and away. I saw the whole transaction from a window--saw it as well as hot, blinding tears would permit. Faye thinks the man might have been a fugitive and wanted a fast horse to get him out of the country. We learned not long ago, you know, that King had been an Indian race pony owned by a half-breed named Bent. He sent word from Camp Supply that I was welcome to the horse if I could ride him! The chaplain has bought Powder-Face, and I am to keep him as long as we are here. Hal will go with us, for I cannot give up that dog and horses, too.

Speaking of Hal reminds me of the awful thing that occurred here a few days ago. I have written often of the pack of beautiful greyhounds owned by the cavalry officers, and of the splendid record of Magic--Hal's father--as a hunter, and how the dog was loved by Lieutenant Baldwin next to his horse.

But unless the dogs were taken on frequent hunts, they would steal off on their own account and often be away a whole day, perhaps until after dark. The other day they went off this way, and in the afternoon, as Lieutenant Alden was riding along by the river, he came to a scene that made him positively ill. On the ground close to the water was the carcass of a calf, which had evidently been filled with poison for wolves, and near it on the bank lay Magic, Deacon, Dixie, and other hounds, all dead or dying! Blue has bad teeth and was still gnawing at the meat, and therefore had not been to the water, which causes almost instant death in cases of poisoning by wolf meat.

As soon as Lieutenant Alden saw that the other dogs were past doing for, he hurried on to the post with Blue, and with great difficulty saved her life. So Hal and his mother are sole survivors of the greyhounds that have been known at many of the frontier posts as fearless and tireless hunters, and plucky fighters when forced to fight. Greyhounds will rarely seek a fight, a trait that sometimes fools other dogs and brings them to their Waterloo. When Lieutenant Alden told me of the death of the dogs, tears came in his eyes as he said, "I have shared my bed with old Magic many a time!" And how those dogs will be missed at the bachelor quarters! When we came here last summer, I was afraid that the old hounds would pounce upon Hal, but instead of that they were most friendly and seemed to know he was one of them--a wanderer returned.

ST. CHARLES HOTEL, NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA, September, 1877.

LIFE in the Army is certainly full of surprises! At Pass Christian yesterday morning, Faye and I were sitting on the veranda reading the papers in an indifferent sort of way, when suddenly Faye jumped up and said, "The Third has been ordered to Montana Territory!" At first I could not believe him--it seemed so improbable that troops would be sent to such a cold climate at this season of the year, and besides, most of the regiment is at Pittsburg just now because of the great coal strike. But there in the Picayune was the little paragraph of half a dozen lines that was to affect our lives for years to come, and which had the immediate power to change our condition of indolent content, into one of the greatest activity and excitement!

Faye went at once to the telegraph office and by wire gave up the remainder of his leave, and also asked the regimental adjutant if transportation was being provided for officers' families. The distance is so great, and the Indians have been so hostile in Montana during the past two years, that we thought families possibly would not be permitted to go.

After luncheon we packed the trunks, carefully separating things so there would be no necessity for repacking if I could not go, and I can assure you that many an article was folded down damp with hot tears--the very uncertainty was so trying. In the evening we went around to say "good-by" to a few of the friends who have been so cordial and hospitable during the summer. Early this morning we came from Pass Christian, and soon after we got here telegrams came for Faye, one ordering him to proceed to Pittsburg and report for duty, and another saying that officers' families may accompany the regiment. This was glorious news to me. The fear and dread of having to be left behind had made me really ill--and what would have become of me if it had actually come to pass I cannot imagine. I can go--that is all sufficient for the present, and we expect to leave for Pittsburg this evening at nine o'clock.

The late start gives us a long day here with nothing to do. After a while, when it is not quite so hot outside, we are going out to take a farewell look at some of our old haunts. Our friends are all out of the city, and Jackson Barracks is too far away for such a warm day--besides, there is no one there now that we know.

It seems quite natural to be in this dear old hotel, where all during the past winter our "Army and Navy Club" cotillons were danced every two weeks. And they were such beautiful affairs, with two splendid military orchestras to furnish the music, one for the dancing and one to give choice selections in between the figures. We will carry with us to the snow and ice of the Rocky Mountains many, many delightful memories of New Orleans, where the French element gives a charm to everything. The Mardi-Gras parades, in which the regiment has each year taken such a prominent part--the courtly Rex balls--the balls of Comus--the delightful Creole balls in Grunewald Hall--the stately and exclusive balls of the Washington Artillery in their own splendid hall--the charming dancing receptions on the ironclad monitor Canonicus, also the war ship Plymouth, where we were almost afraid to step, things were so immaculate and shiny--and then our own pretty army fetes at Jackson Barracks--regimental headquarters--each and all will be remembered, ever with the keenest pleasure.

But the event in the South that has made the deepest impression of all occurred at Vicksburg, where for three weeks we lived in the same house, en famille and intimately, with Jefferson Davis! I consider that to have been a really wonderful experience. You probably can recall a little of what I wrote you at the time--how we were boarding with his niece in her splendid home when he came to visit her.

I remember so well the day he arrived. He knew, of course, that an army officer was in the house, and Mrs. Porterfield had told us of his coming, so the meeting was not unexpected. Still, when we went down to dinner that night I was almost shivering from nervousness, although the air was excessively warm. I was so afraid of something unpleasant coming up, for although Mrs. Porterfield and her daughter were women of culture and refinement, they were also rebels to the very quick, and never failed at any time to remind one that their uncle was "President" Davis! And then, as we went in the large dining room, Faye in his very bluest, shiniest uniform, looked as if he might be Uncle Sam himself.

But there was nothing to fear--nothing whatever. A tall, thin old man came forward with Mrs. Porterfield to meet us--a courtly gentleman of the old Southern school--who, apparently, had never heard of the Civil War, and who, if he noticed the blue uniform at all, did not take the slightest interest in what it represented. His composure was really disappointing! After greeting me with grave dignity, he turned to Faye and grasped his hand firmly and cordially, the whole expression of his face softening just a little. I have always thought that he was deeply moved by once again seeing the Federal Blue under such friendly circumstances, and that old memories came surging back, bringing with them the almost forgotten love and respect for the Academy--a love that every graduate takes to his grave, whether his life be one of honor or of disgrace.

One could very easily have become sentimental, and fancied that he was Old West Point, misled and broken in spirit, admitting in dignified silence his defeat and disgrace to Young West Point, who, with Uncle Sam's shoulder straps and brass buttons, could be generously oblivious to the misguidance and treason of the other. We wondered many times if Jefferson Davis regretted his life. He certainly could not have been satisfied with it.

There was more in that meeting than a stranger would have known of. In the splendid dining room where we sat, which was forty feet in length and floored with tiles of Italian marble, as was the entire large basement, it was impossible not to notice the unpainted casing of one side of a window, and also the two immense patches of common gray plaster on the beautifully frescoed walls, which covered holes made by a piece of shell that had crashed through the house during the siege of Vicksburg. The shell itself had exploded outside near the servants' quarters.

Then, again, every warm evening after dinner, during the time he was at the house, Jefferson Davis and Faye would sit out on the grand, marble porch and smoke and tell of little incidents that had occurred at West Point when each had been a cadet there. At some of these times they would almost touch what was left of a massive pillar at one end, that had also been shattered and cracked by pieces of shell from U.S. gunboats, one piece being still imbedded in the white marble.

For Jefferson Davis knew that Faye's father was an officer in the Navy, and that he had bravely and boldly done his very best toward the undoing of the Confederacy; and by his never-failing, polished courtesy to that father's son--even when sitting by pieces of shell and patched-up walls--the President of the Confederacy set an example of dignified self-restraint, that many a Southern man and woman--particularly woman--would do well to follow.

For in these days of reconstruction officers and their families are not always popular. But at Pass Christian this summer we have received the most hospitable, thoughtful attention, and never once by word or deed were we reminded that we were "Yank-Tanks," as was the case at Holly Springs the first year we were there. However, we did some fine reconstruction business for Uncle Sam right there with those pert Mississippi girls--two of whom were in a short time so thoroughly reconstructed that they joined his forces "for better or for worse!"

The social life during the three years we have been in the South has most of the time been charming, but the service for officers has often been most distasteful. Many times they have been called upon to escort and protect carpetbag politicians of a very low type of manhood--men who could never command one honest vote at their own homes in the North. Faye's company has been moved twenty-one times since we came from Colorado three years ago, and almost every time it was at the request of those unprincipled carpetbaggers. These moves did not always disturb us, however, as during most of the time Faye has been adjutant general of the District of Baton Rouge, and this kept us at Baton Rouge, but during the past winter we have been in New Orleans.

Several old Creole families whose acquaintance we made in the city last winter, have charming old-style Southern homes at Pass Christian, where we have ever been cordially welcomed. It was a common occurrence for me to chaperon their daughters to informal dances at the different cottages along the beach, and on moonlight sailing parties on Mr. Payne's beautiful yacht, and then, during the entire summer, from the time we first got there, I have been captain of one side of a croquet team, Mr. Payne having been captain of the other. The croquet part was, of course, the result of Major Borden's patient and exacting teaching at Baton Rouge.

Mentioning Baton Rouge reminds me of my dear dog that was there almost a year with the hospital steward. He is now with the company at Mount Ver-non Barracks, Alabama, and Faye has telegraphed the sergeant to see that he is taken to Pittsburg with the company.

We are going out now, first of all to Michaud's for some of his delicious biscuit glace! Our city friends are all away still, so there will be nothing for us to do but wander around, pour passer le temps until we go to the station.

MONONGAHELA HOUSE, PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA, September, 1877.

ONCE again we have our trunks packed for the long trip to Montana, and this time I think we will go, as the special train that is to take us is now at the station, and baggage of the regiment is being hurriedly loaded. Word came this morning that the regiment would start to-night, so it seems that at last General Sherman has gained his point. For three long weeks we have been kept here in suspense--packing and then unpacking--one day we were to go, the next we were not to go, while the commanding general and the division commander were playing "tug of war" with us.

The trip will be long and very expensive, and we go from a hot climate to a cold one at a season when the immediate purchase of warm clothing is imperative, and with all this unexpected expense we have been forced to pay big hotel bills for weeks, just because of a disagreement between two generals that should have been settled in one day. Money is very precious to the poor Army at present, too, for not one dollar has been paid to officers or enlisted men for over three months! How officers with large families can possibly manage this move I do not see--sell their pay accounts I expect, and then be court martialed for having done so.

Congress failed to pass the army appropriation bill before it adjourned, consequently no money can be paid to the Army until the next session! Yet the Army is expected to go along just the same, promptly pay Uncle Sam himself all commissary and quartermaster bills at the end of each month, and without one little grumble do his bidding, no matter what the extra expense may be. I wonder what the wise men of Congress, who were too weary to take up the bill before going to their comfortable homes--I wonder what they would do if the Army as a body would say, "We are tired. Uncle, dear, and are going home for the summer to rest. You will have to get along without us and manage the Indians and strikers the best way you can." This would be about as sensible as forcing the Army to be paupers for months, and then ordering regiments from East to West and South to North. Of course many families will be compelled to remain back, that might otherwise have gone.

We are taking out a young colored man we brought up with us from Holly Springs. He has been at the arsenal since we have been here, and Hal has been with him. It is over one year since the dog saw me, and I am almost afraid he will not know me tonight at the station. Before we left Pass Christian Faye telegraphed the sergeant to bring Hal with the company and purchase necessary food for him on the way up. So, when the company got here, bills were presented by several of the men, who claimed to have bought meat for the dog, the sum total of which was nine dollars for the two days! We were so pleased to know that Hal had been so well cared for. But the soldiers were welcome to the money and more with it, for we were so glad to have the dog with us again, safe and well.

We have quite a Rae family now--Faye and I--a darky, a greyhound, and one small gray squirrel! It will be a hard trip for Billie, but I have made for him a little ribbon collar and sewed securely to it a long tape which makes a fine "picket rope" that can be tied to various things in various places, and in this way he can be picketed and yet receive exercise and air.

We are to go almost straight north from the railroad for a distance of over four hundred miles, and of course this will take several weeks under the most favorable conditions. But you must not mind our going so far away--it will be no farther than the Indian Territory, and the climate of Montana must be very much better than it was at Camp Supply, and the houses must certainly be more comfortable, as the winters are so long and severe. I shall be so glad to have a home of my own again, and have a horse to ride also.

Faye has just come from the station and says that almost everything has been loaded, and that we are really to start to-night at eight o'clock. This is cheering news, for I think that everyone is anxious to get to Montana, except the poor officers who cannot afford to take their families with them.

CORINNE, UTAH TERRITORY, September, 1877.