Chapter 18
General Terry helped Custer compose a letter to President Grant. Even though Grant still did not forgive Custer, the newspapers and the people clamored for him because they viewed him as a hero.
Grant finally relented to an extent. Terry was still to head the campaign, but Custer was to have field command of his own troops. He was elated.
Terry and Custer arrived at Fort Abraham Lincoln, and preparations were hurriedly made for the Seventh Cavalry to ride forth from there.
A dance was planned out on the parade grounds. Soldiers cheerfully worked extra hours laying down the flooring for the event.
The days that had passed had done little to ease Sabrina’s mind. Sloan all but ignored her, spending a great deal of time with his fellow officers and coming to bed very late.
In turn, Sabrina withdrew. The tension between them became palpable. If he touched her by accident—his hand perhaps brushing her as he reached for a cup—she flinched and quickly moved out of his way.
It seemed that they had a silent agreement, however, not to air their feud in public.
They were both polite and courteous to each other in front of others.
On the afternoon of the dance, Sloan escorted her out.
He promptly found himself engaged in conversation with Terry and his commanders, and Sabrina went on to talk with Louella.
Sabrina was pleased to see that the young captain who had been paying attention to Louella at the earlier social was paying court once again.
His name was Adam Adair, Sabrina discovered that afternoon.
He was forty years old and had served the Confederacy during the Civil War, and it had been a long hard climb for him to gain his rank in the Union army.
He bore no bitterness to the North—the war had been a matter of geography to him, and his soldiers seemed to bear no grudges, either.
Sabrina danced with him and frowned when she realized that he was smiling strangely.
“What is it?” she asked him.
“Mrs. Trelawny, you have been asking the questions a father asks!” he told her.
“Well, Louella is a very special young woman, and I wouldn’t want you…”
“Trifling with her affections?” he inquired.
“Well, I suppose,” Sabrina admitted.
“I do intend to marry her,” he said solemnly. “In fact, I’ve asked David Anderson if he’ll be kind enough to see that we are married next Saturday, before we soldiers take to the field.”
“How wonderful!” Sabrina declared. “Congratulations, Captain! I am delighted.”
She kissed him on the cheek and noted that Sloan was watching her, frowning.
But Marlene Howard was in the group where he stood now, and if Sloan was disturbed by her kissing the round little captain, then good.
She ignored her husband, whirling around the dance floor with Captain Adair. “A wedding. How very, very wonderful.”
Adam Adair laughed softly. “Thank you, thank you so much. But please, Mrs. Trelawny, have a care! Your husband is a fierce fellow, and I would like to arrive in a timely manner at my own wedding.”
“Sloan?” she murmured.
“Cougar-in-the-Night,” Captain Adair said, reminding her of Sloan’s Indian name.
She smiled sweetly. “He is nothing but a kitten, trust me, sir.”
“A kitten?”
To her dismay, Sloan had crossed the floor when she wasn’t looking to cut in on Captain Adair.
“Sir!” Adair said quickly.
“Captain, may I?”
“Indeed!”
Adair surrendered her quickly to Sloan and cut in on the corporal who was dancing with Louella. There were far more men than women, and some of the young soldiers made a game of it, wearing scarves on their sleeves and jokingly dancing with one another.
“If you consider me as tame as a kitten, my love, then we’ve serious problems,” he told her.
“He was afraid of you,” she told him as she met his eyes. “I was only trying to assure him.”
“Assure him of what? Why the kiss for a near stranger?”
“He is going to marry Louella.”
Sloan’s brow arched high. She was glad to see the smile that crossed his face. “Well, good for Captain Adair. And good for poor, dear Louella!”
“Just because she isn’t beautiful—”
“Beauty, my love, perishes through the years. Louella has strength and energy and will probably love the poor man silly, and make him very happy, indeed.”
Sabrina was startled to feel a tap on her shoulder. Looking around, she saw that Sarah Anderson was cutting in on her to dance with Sloan.
“May I? If I’m not being too impertinent?” she inquired.
“Not at all!” Sabrina assured her.
Sarah slipped into Sloan’s arms. “Sabrina, Jean hasn’t come out yet. Captain Jenkins is here, but Jean isn’t. He said that she had a headache. It can’t be that bad. She is so very fond of you—perhaps you’d be good enough to try to talk her into coming out and joining us.”
“I’d be delighted,” Sabrina assured Sarah.
The sound of music filled the parade grounds.
Walking toward the Jenkins’ home, Sabrina looked back briefly.
Everyone was on his or her best behavior.
Reno—who hated Custer and had tried to take his command—was standing in the same group with him, as was Captain Benteen, who, if rumor was right, didn’t particularly care for Reno, but hated Custer as well.
It was a pleasant picture, seeing so many men in dress uniform.
There were fewer women, but the wives and female relatives who were present were all dressed up as well, dancing and laughing and talking gaily.
She was surprised to feel a little shiver of apprehension as she watched them all.
She shook off the feeling and hurried on to find Jean and beg her to come out and join them.
Sabrina reached the Jenkins’ home. “Jean!” she called, tapping on the woman’s door.
There was no answer, and she frowned, hoping Jean wasn’t seriously ill.
“Jean, it’s Sabrina. I’ve come to talk you into coming out to the dance.
The weather is lovely, absolutely lovely—and you know how rare that’s been. Even General Terry is out with us.”
The door opened just a crack. “Sabrina?”
“Yes, it’s me, Jean.”
“Thank you. It’s nice of you to come for me, nice of you to care, but…I’m really not feeling well,” Jean told her.
“Oh, come on out, please. You can’t be feeling that poorly. We’ll make you feel better,” Sabrina promised. “Jean!” she implored, pushing the door open farther and stepping inside the small parlor. “Jean, you’re not going to feel well if you don’t get some sunshine—”
She broke off, staring at Jean. The young woman had a black eye. A real shiner.
“I’m so clumsy!” Jean said hastily. “I fell. But I feel ridiculous. I don’t want anyone to see me. Please understand.”
Sabrina nodded, looking at Jean—and feeling her temper soar.
She suspected that Jean hadn’t fallen at all—Lloyd Jenkins had hit his wife. The bastard had gone too far. Sabrina wished that he were standing right there, right now. She’d give him the tongue-lashing of his life!
“I fell, Sabrina, really.” But Jean’s lashes lowered, and she wouldn’t look at Sabrina.
“He hit you,” Sabrina said.
Jean shook her head; then she suddenly looked at Sabrina. “What difference would it make if he did? He’s my husband; I have no recourse. I displeased him—”
“An angel would displease him!” Sabrina exclaimed.
But Jean’s big blue eyes filled with tears. “Don’t say anything—you mustn’t say anything to the others, please. Oh, Sabrina, please. He is my husband. I have to try not to be so incompetent and annoying—”
“Dear God, Jean!”
“I told you, Sabrina!” Jean said angrily. “I fell.”
She was going to burst into tears. Sabrina felt that she was making it all the worse for Jean, but she was loath to just leave her. “I’ll sit with you—”
“No!” Jean cried in panic. “Please, go back to the dance. Please, please!”
“All right,” Sabrina said. “’Til leave, Jean, but you have to take care of that eye—”
“Lloyd gave me a very expensive piece of beef, just for my eye,” Jean assured her.
Sabrina bit her tongue to keep from telling Jean exactly what she thought of Lloyd’s expenditure on meat for his wife’s eyes.
“Go back—please, Sabrina? Enjoy the dance. I’m fine, honestly. I just—I just don’t want to be seen.”
Sabrina nodded, trying to smile. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, all right?”
Jean nodded. Sabrina stepped back outside and started walking back toward the dance, feeling miserable.
She walked across the grounds toward the dance floor and accepted an invitation from General Terry.
When the dance ended, she walked to the buffet table, anxious to pour herself some punch. She was startled when Sloan came to her side.
“All right, what’s the matter? What did I do now?” he demanded.
She shook her head, seeing that Lloyd Jenkins was now dancing with Marlene Howard.
“You’re not the guilty one this time,” she informed him.
“Will wonders never cease!” he mused.
When she didn’t pick up on his taunt, he frowned. “Sabrina, dammit, what’s the matter?”
“I think—I’m sure—that Lloyd hit her. He gave Jean a black eye.”
Sloan watched her face for a moment, then sighed. “Did she say that he hit her?”
“She more or less admitted it.” Sabrina spun around to him. “Oh, Sloan, it’s so terrible. So mean. How can he do that to her? Isn’t there anything that anyone can do?”
“Sabrina, if I accused him of beating his wife, he’d deny the charge. We’d wind up in a fight, and I’d be accused of provoking it because Jenkins likes to call me a traitor because of my Sioux blood.”
“It will be wonderful for her when he rides out of this fort!” Sabrina said passionately.
She felt him watching her. “And tell me, will it be wonderful for you when I ride away, too?”
“I’ve told you,” she said evenly, “that I don’t want any harm coming to you.”
The music had ended; Lloyd had thanked Marlene for the dance. And for some reason, his eyes fell on Sabrina.
She wasn’t sure just how she conveyed her anger and disgust so thoroughly through her eyes, but she must have done so. He stared at her a very long time, then suddenly turned around.