, but as none of his friends knew her, he found it impossible.
At length a chance came. Her bridle-rein broke one morning; there was a
runaway, a rescue, and then acquaintance was easy. From war to love, or
from love to war, is but a step, and Will lost no time in taking it.
He was somewhat better than an apprentice to Dan Cupid. If the reader
remembers, he went to school with Steve Gobel. True, his opportunities
to enjoy feminine society had not been many, which; perhaps, accounts
for the promptness with which he embraced them when they did arise.
He became the accepted suitor of Miss Louise Frederici before the war
closed and his regiment was mustered out. The spring of 1865 found him
not yet twenty, and he was sensible of the fact that before he could
dance at his own wedding he must place his worldly affairs upon a surer
financial basis than falls to the lot of a soldier; so, much as he would
have enjoyed remaining in St. Louis, fortune pointed to wider fields,
and he set forth in search of remunerative and congenial employment.
First, there was the visit home, where the warmest of welcomes awaited
him. During his absence the second sister, Eliza, had married a Mr.
Myers, but the rest of us were at the old place, and the eagerness with
which we awaited Will's home-coming was stimulated by the hope that
he would remain and take charge of the estate. Before we broached this
subject, however, he informed us of his engagement to Miss Frederici,
which, far from awakening jealousy, aroused our delight, Julia voicing
the sentiment of the family in the comment: "When you're married, Will,
you will have to stay at home." This led to the matter of his remaining
with us to manage the estate--and to the upsetting of our plans. The pay
of a soldier in the war was next to nothing, and as Will had been unable
to put any money by, he took the first chance that offered to better his
fortunes. This happened to be a job of driving horses from Leavenworth
to Fort Kearny, and almost the first man he met after reaching the fort
was an old plains friend, Bill Trotter. "You're just the chap I've been
looking for," said Trotter, when he learned that Will desired regular
work. "I'm division station agent here, but stage-driving is dangerous
work, as the route is infested with Indians and outlaws. Several drivers
have been held up and killed lately, so it's not a very enticing job,
but the pay's good, and you know the country. If any one can tak