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Honor Bound (Officers of the 7th Cavalry 2)

By Diane Kalas

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August1875. Ft. Abraham Lincoln, Dakota Territory

Lieutenant Joseph Hawthorn strode across the parade grounds of Ft. Lincoln with friends from his Academy days at West Point. “No campaigns this summer for the Seventh sure made things dull around here.”

Lieutenant Phil Brewster nodded. “More dress parades, routine drills, and the usual escort duty isn’t how I envisioned my life at a frontier fort.”

“Let me tell you a secret.” Lieutenant Andrew Granville’s brows flickered upward. “I am happy to avoid war.”

“Likewise, if at all possible.” Joe smiled, until a commotion off to his right caught his attention. Excited voices rose, some encouraging the combatants to continue their brawl, while others tried to intervene.

Phil frowned. “What’s going on over there?”
Joe cast a glance to his friends. “Come on, let’s break this up.” He jerked his head in the direction of a small crowd, and then broke into a run toward troopers who had gathered around a figure on the ground being pummeled by a wiry man in cavalry uniform.
“Halt, men.” Phil grabbed a man and tossed him off the victim.
Joe recognized the troublemaker. “Stand back, Private Wilcox. You’ve been warned twice about fighting. This time you’re going to do three days in confinement with forfeiture of pay.”
Private Wilcox cussed and continued struggling to free himself from onlookers who held him by the upper arms. “You can’t do that to me. I defended myself.”
Joe turned to the crowd. “Is Private Wilcox stating the truth? Is he innocent of wrongdoing tonight?”
“No, sir, he’s lying,” one trooper shouted.
“As always,” another private added.
“All right, here’s what happens now.” Joe’s gaze settled on Private Wilcox. “You’re going to the guardhouse and I’ll write my report.” He turned toward the men holding Wilcox and nodded. “Private Wilcox is under arrest. I need you men as witnesses.”
Joe studied the young man on the ground as several enlisted men helped the trooper to stand, his cut lip and nose bleeding onto his uniform. “Tell me your name, private, and what happened between you and Wilcox.”
“I’m Private Hornby, sir.” He rubbed his head. “I don’t rightly know. I must’ve said something to set Wilcox off.”
Joe clamped his lips together. “All right, Private Hornby. Go see Doctor Westcott. I’ll check on you afterward for further details. Your account of the incident is for the record.”
“Yes, sir.”
The injured man’s sympathizers strolled away with him, talking in low voices. Joe inhaled a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I don’t know if Private Wilcox is a drinker or if he’s a hothead. We need to keep an ear open to gossip about him.”
“Understood.” Phil walked with energy in every step.
Andrew shook his head, keeping pace with his friends. “No Army can rely upon men who demonstrate their inability to control themselves.”
“The Army should select men better suited for our needs in the West.” Joe frowned.
“And we need time away from here. I have an idea.” Phil smiled broadly to each man near him. “Let’s request furloughs for the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia.”
Andrew squinted at Phil. “What’s the date?”
“May 10, next year.”
“Great idea.” Joe nodded. “And since we’re assigned to different companies, we shouldn’t have a problem getting furloughs at the same time.”
Andrew clapped Joe on the back. “Now that’s something I can look forward to that doesn’t involve warfare with the Sioux.”
Joe completed his report, including Private Hornby’s final account. He saw to it that Private Wilcox remained confined to the guardhouse. Afterward, he left the fort and headed toward the Missouri River with his companions.
***
That same evening, Joe and his friends hopped onboard The Union ferryboat, paid their fare, and lined up along the railing for the short trip across the river to Bismarck. That damp earth scent reminded Joe of Lake Erie and sharing a rowboat with Phil and Becca. His chest tightened at the thought of Becca, his former fiancée, married to another officer. He shook his head as though he could remove the mental picture of her smiling face. His annoyance with himself grew.
They disembarked the old steamboat, overloaded with enlisted troopers and officers. The brass bell clanged, and the whistle blew. The mad rush to exit the watercraft proceeded with the usual rough pushing and shoving, horseplay from men eager to begin their off-duty hours.
“I hear O’Hanlon’s niece is a looker.” Phil’s eyebrows lifted. “With no sense of humor.”
“Who cares?” Joe scowled. “I’m here for a change of scenery and billiards.”
Andrew laughed. “The enlisted men are flocking to the place because of the girl, although they can’t afford to eat at O’Hanlon’s Tavern.”
Phil elbowed Joe in the side. “Let’s enjoy our freedom tonight, all right?”
“Exactly.”
Joe and his friends joined troopers of all ages who had gathered outside the two-story clapboard building. A weather-beaten sign above the scarred wooden door had faded and hung at an angle. They served food and beverages on the main level, while two billiard tables occupied the second floor of O’Hanlon’s Tavern.
“Whoa. Will ya look at the crowd?” Andrew turned in a complete circle. “There must be an entire company of cavalrymen here, and as many infantrymen.”
“Hey, let’s pull rank.” Phil grinned.
“I’m with you, my friend.” Andrew cleared his throat. “Step aside men. Officers here.”
Joe maneuvered his way through the throng with difficulty. “Come on, men, give way. We have business inside.”
“Who do you think you are, huh?”someone bellowed. “Our money’s as good as yours.”
Joe ignored the crowd of impatient men who vented their displeasure at having to move apart and let them pass. Some took threatening steps forward, staring daggers at them.
The establishment’s front door swung wide. “Now see here, you ruffians,” a woman’s voice spoke above the din.
The shouting and loud talking from the men ended abruptly. All eyes focused on the small female in front of the tavern’s rough exterior.
“I gotta see who’s speaking.” Phil twisted his neck this way and that to try and see above the milling crowd. “She’s not tall enough to view.”
“It’s O’Hanlon’s niece,” Andrew lowered his volume as though in chapel. “Whew. Have a look, Joe, Phil.”
Joe managed to step ahead of those who were too distracted by the speaker to put up any resistance. His former Academy roommates followed close behind him. Joe tugged on the collar of his jacket. Although off-duty, he and his fellow officers appeared in uniform.
A young woman wearing an ankle-length apron over an unremarkable blue dress, carried a crate. She stepped up on her improvised platform and peered over her audience of spellbound troopers.
Large blue eyes fringed by thick lashes and shaded by arched brows stared back at Joe. She lifted her oval face with a dainty chin, surrounded by deep auburn hair. He caught himself smiling at her, a purely masculine response to feminine beauty. He shifted his focus to her grim mouth that expressed her intolerance of the situation.
“I’ll not have anymore of this behavior outta you boys. We’ve no room inside, until some folks leave. So, go busy yourselves and be quiet.”
Andrew leaned closer to his friends. “Have you ever seen a more lovely figure?”
Phil’s laughter floated up from his parched throat. “With thick hair I’m itching to run my fingers through.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” a trooper called out.
She dropped her hands to her hips and glared at the man. “I’m not your sweetheart, but I’ll tell you my name. I am Ivy O’Hanlon, niece of Grady O’Hanlon who is my dad’s brother.”
“Will you marry me, Ivy?” another enlisted man asked.
“NO. I’ll have none of that nonsense, boys.” She stepped inside the tavern and slammed the door shut.
The crowd howled with laughter at the exchange and with good-natured whistles. Joe turned and shook his head. “Come on, let’s see if we can get past her. I’m hungry.”
 

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