"Laramie;" Or, The Queen of Bedlam. A Story of the Sioux War of 1876King, Charles
General
"Laramie;" Or, The Queen of Bedlam. A Story of the Sioux War of 1876
King, Charles
Dakota Indians -- Wars, 1876 -- Fiction
"There is a matter behind all this which I ought to know, is there
not?" was therefore his quiet inquiry; and when Mr. Holmes assured him
that there was, and the two went off together arm in arm, leaving Mrs.
Miller to wonder what it all could mean, and to go in and upbraid her
pet lieutenant for venturing from his room when still so weak, it was
soon evident to more eyes than those of Dr. Bayard that something of
unusual interest was indeed brewing, and that the ordinarily genial and
jovial major was powerfully moved. In ten minutes the two men were at
the telegraph office and the operator was "calling" Cheyenne. An hour
later, after another brief and earnest talk with Miss Forrest on the
upper gallery of "Bedlam," Mr. Holmes's travelling wagon rolled into
the garrison and away he went. At midnight he was changing horses at
"The Chug." The next day he was at Cheyenne and wired the major from
that point. Two days more and he was heard from at Denver, and then
there was silence.
At the end of the week Private Parsons, of Terry's Grays, who had been
carried for three or four successive mornings as "on detached service,"
then as "absent without leave," was formally accounted for as
"deserted," and it began to be whispered about the garrison that grave
and decidedly sensational reasons attended his sudden disappearance.
Dr. Bayard had a long and private interview with the commanding
officer, who showed him a letter received from Mr. Holmes, and went
home to Nellie with a dazed look on his distinguished face. The sight
of Randall McLean, seated on the front piazza, and in blithe
conversation with that young lady and her friend Miss Bruce, for an
instant caused him to halt short at his own gate, but, mastering
whatever emotion possessed him, the doctor marched straight up to that
rapidly recuperating officer, who was trying to find his feet and show
due respect to the master of the house, and, bidding him keep his seat,
bent over and took his hand and confused him more than a little by the
unexpected and really inexplicable warmth of his greeting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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