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The half-dozen officers left at the post would be little apt to interfere with him. Only, he must manage Mrs. Stannard. Gleason took a fortifying glass or two, ordered up his horse, and, late as it was, rode in to Cheyenne.
Just then the lawyer and the little detective came, talking earnestly together, up the row, and, naturally, all three studied their looks and gestures with eager attention. "That little Denverite is on a scent," said Blake in a low tone; "he has been hunting high and low for a mate to a peculiar gauntlet that was found there. He says Gleason could never have owned it." "A gauntlet?
Then he told Stannard that Gleason wrote in so many words that Ray was with Rallston night and day, and intimated that the latter kept him at cards and wine most of the time, and that if some scandal did not result when it came to paying for the horses he would be surprised. Still, he could not quote the language; but he gave his impressions.
Gleason; I believe I'll wait here," was the reply, pleasant but decided. "Why, Marion! Do come in!" cried Mrs. Truscott, hastening to the door. Miss Sanford's face was flushing slightly, but her voice was gentle as usual. "I'll wait for you, Grace; but I do not care for a lemonade, and would rather not go in." "Indeed, I don't care for one either.
For his mother was tearfully relating to him the share of the general misery that had fallen to their lot, as a family, in the past nine years, how Elnathan had not been able to carry on his farm, without the aid of the boys, and had run behind, till now, Solomon Gleason the schoolmaster, had got hold of the mortgage, and was going to turn them into the street, that very week.
"I wonder he let the others carry her up," said Miss Gleason. "Of course, he will marry her now, when she gets her divorce." She spoke of Mrs. Maynard, whom her universal toleration not only included in the mercy which the opinions of the other ladies denied her, but round whom her romance cast a halo of pretty possibilities as innocently sentimental as the hopes of a young girl.
Gleason sat opposite the young lady, and was, therefore, obliged to talk much with Mrs. Stannard. After dinner he promptly established himself by Miss Sanford's side, showing her albums full of photographs of the officers, a collection the major and his wife had been making for years, and one in which they took great delight.
Here I must make record of the kindness of the marshal, Rolla Gleason, who treated us with respect and kindness.
"What do you think!" exclaimed Mrs. Turner, breathlessly, as she rushed in upon her friend Mrs. Stannard one bright morning a week later, "Mrs. Truscott and Miss Sanford will both be here to-morrow. Mr. Gleason escorts them. Why!" she added, in visible disappointment, "you knew all about it all the time. Why didn't you tell me?" "I only knew yesterday, Mrs. Turner," was the smiling reply.
"I am John Gleason," he said; "the brother of James Gleason, who owns the Spring Valley Stock Farm, just out of Adams." Drusilla thought for a moment. "I don't seem to recall the name, but perhaps you moved there sence I went away." "I been there about thirty years. Of course you know William Fisher, the editor of the county paper? He is a friend of mine." Drusilla's face brightened.
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