almost
destitute, accomplished, and so devoted to her church duties. She was
interesting and refined, and highly educated. He heard the eulogiums
pronounced by the good priest and some of his flock, and Mrs. Fletcher,
a substantial person of some forty years at least, was duly installed.

Fort Emory was filled with women folk and consternation--most of the men
being afield. The seething question of the hour was whether they should
call on her, whether she was to be received at the fort, whether she was
to be acknowledged and recognized at all, and then came, _mirabile
dictu_, a great government official from Washington to inspect the Union
Pacific and make speeches at various points along the road, and Mrs.
Fletcher, mind you, walked to church the very next Sunday on the
Honorable Secretary's arm, sat by his side when he drove out to hear the
band at Emory, and received with him on the colonel's veranda, and that
settled it. Received and acknowledged and visited she had to be. She
might well prove a woman worth knowing.

Within a fortnight she had made the new homestead blossom like the rose.
Within a month everything was in perfect order for the reception of
Elinor and her school friend--a busy, anxious month, in which Folsom was
flitting to and fro to Reno and Frayne, as we have seen; to Hal's ranch
in the Medicine Bow, to Rawhide and Laramie, and the reservations in
Northwestern Nebraska; and it so happened that he was away the night
Major Burleigh, on his way to the depot, dropped in to inquire if he
could see Mr. Folsom a moment on important business. The servant said he
was not in town--had gone, she thought, to Omaha. She would inquire of
Mrs. Fletcher, and meantime would the major step inside? Step inside,
and stand wonderingly at the threshold of the pretty parlor he did; and
then there was a rustle of silken skirts on the floor above, and, as he
turned to listen, his haggard, careworn face took on a look something
like that which overspread it the night he got the letter at
Reno--something that told of bewilderment and perplexity as a quiet,
modulated voice told the servant to tell the gentleman Mr. Folsom might
not return for several days. Burleigh had no excuse to linger, none to
ask to hear that voice again; yet as he slowly descended the steps its
accents were still strangely ringing in his ears. Where on earth had he
heard that voice before?

CHAPTER VI.

The quartermaster's depot at Gate City