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Rated: 13+ · Other · History · #1721525
Protection in a wild land has to come from the outside and the inside. M/M relationships.
Chapter 2 ~ Remaining Neutral

Major Bailey never really had time to take in the fort on his day of arrival. As soon as the struggling little train of wagons had pulled up to the gates, the horses beginning to loudly complain of their trials across the desert and the infant doing exactly the same once again, he was met by a young, bright Private who grasped the reins of his weakened stallion and told they had been waiting for him. Bailey wasn’t one to turn down recognition, especially in the gradually ascending but still shambles of this thing they called the post-War army, but if he was being honest that evening, all he really wanted was to be guided to his quarters and rest for the night. It would have been the first actual bed he would have got to lie down on since departing Fort Laramie.

Apparently though, he had to get dressed into something more fitting for dinner with General Sanborn Prior. He should have been expecting this. It was courtesy to dine with the commanding officer on the night of the arrival. Still, it did nothing for the weary feeling growing inside and making his eyes itch already and limbs ache.

The Private that had met him told him as he guided him up to the commanding officer’s house where his room would be that he would have a full tour of the fort the following morning. Bailey was at least glad of this. What good was an aide de camp who didn’t know his own post after all?

He thanked the young boy as he helped him carry his belongings into the room he would be residing in for the foreseeable future and then, once the door was shut, took a moment to sit down on the edge of the bed. He felt as though he had been moving constantly for the whole week or more he had been on the route to this fort. In a way, he supposed he had been. He couldn’t remember any specific landscape, the whole wide open prairie of Dakota Territory blending into one endless, hot desert that was as indistinguishable as the present condition of Fort DeLacey in his mind, yet he could recall that it had been almost insufferable. Yes, it was beautiful and he could see how some of the men who travelled here were enthralled by it all, but it was harsh none the less and he could understand how so many people had lost their lives there over the past few years.

Shaking the true yet uncomfortable thought from his head, he quickly changed into a uniform that was a great deal smarter and neater than the old, dusty and damp one he had worn for the most part of the journey there and reached for the small mirror by his bedside. Although the glass was spotted and cracked anyway, the dirt that clung to his skin and hair was unmistakeable. His moustache needed a trim, his eyes were reddened slightly and had dark circles hanging beneath them and there were a few cuts along his cheeks and forehead where stray tree branches had hung over the party of travellers and been relentless in clawing at his face. He couldn’t do anything about the moustache in the short amount of time he had before the Private would return but he gave up some of the contents of his canteen to clean at least some of the grime off his skin and to douse the jagged wounds.

It wasn’t exactly the best job in the world but when his guide arrived back, he seemed more pleased than not. No more words were said about his appearance so he allowed him out of the room, as it seemed, and walked him down the corridor. Bailey found himself half-jogging to keep up with him, his legs aching a fair bit after being slung over a horse for a over a week, and when the boy paused outside a door on the second floor, the flight of stairs having been particularly demanding, he wasn’t too happy to see a little smirk on his lips, as if he knew he was much faster than him.

‘’ Major Bailey, have a pleasant evening,’’ the Private announced with the hint of a voice similar to the clerks at some of the crumbling hotels Bailey had had the pleasure of staying at. ‘’ I’m sure you will enjoy your stay at Fort DeLacey.’’

Bailey scowled as the kid turned his back, sensing the mocking in his tone, and waited for him to leave the landing. Once he had gone, he took a breath, tried to bring himself around to some frame of mind to enter but then realised that thinking about it just made everything worse so he simply knocked and when he didn’t get a reply, he opened the door and stepped in.

A young man, couldn’t have been over 23 at the most, stood by the perfectly laid out table in there, fiddling with the last pieces of cutlery and adornments and completely oblivious to Bailey’s arrival. His eyes were focused on tugging the clean white sheet that covered the polished wood so it was completely free of creases all the while continuing to adjust the set glasses. Bailey took his time in closing the door, not wanting to startle him, but it seemed his efforts were in vain when he finally did announce himself. The boy jumped and in his haste to turn around, accidentally knocked one of the prepared bottles. Bailey managed to catch it before it smashed onto the floor and spilled its contents over the perfectly tidy rug.

‘’ Thank you,’’ his companion breathed, sounding relieved as he was handed back the bottle. It went back to its pre-positioned place on the table.

‘’ Not a problem, Lieutenant,’’ Bailey replied with his best attempt at a friendly smile, glancing at the insignia on the man’s uniform to judge his rank. ‘’ Are you here to help prepare for the meal tonight?’’

‘’ Yes. I will be dining here too, in fact.’’ The lieutenant held out his hand, offering it to Bailey who shook it formally, not giving too much warmth yet. ‘’ I am General Prior’s aide de camp, Lieutenant Taylor Anderson. You must be Major Everett Bailey, is that correct?’’

‘’ That’s correct. Do you know where the general would be at this moment?’’

‘’ Yes, sir. He’s just preparing now. Would you like to sit down?’’

‘’ Thank you.’’ Bailey nodded his thanks and took the place he was directed to on one side of the table. As he pulled out his chair, a sudden awareness of the bunched up patterned rug came to him and he was quick to inconspicuously stamp it out. Everything else looked so perfect around the room. The glasses and bottles were lined with a military precision along the table, the furniture seemed to have been aligned with instruments especially designed for that purpose and even the paintings hanging on the walls had a certain sheen to them. Bailey felt conscious of the tiniest of his movements, as though his mere presence unbalanced things.

The Lieutenant he had just been addressed to glanced over as he sat there, as still as the ornamental statues on the ledges around the room, and a little smile played about his lips. ‘’ You seem uncomfortable, Major,’’ he remarked. Bailey shook his head.

‘’ I’m not uncomfortable, Lieutenant, thank you,’’ he replied though there was a hint of a lie in that statement. Lieutenant Anderson seemed to sense it.

‘’ General Prior likes everything to be in it’s own place in here,’’ he said simply. Bailey wondered what that meant about his leadership skills. He was about to respond when a door that adjoined the room to another opened and another man stepped in. By the look of the gleaming golden insignia on his shoulders and the overall pristine impression of his uniform, Bailey assumed this was General Prior. He immediately stood from the table as an act of courtesy and very almost bowed his legs when he realised that he was at least a little taller than his new commander. It wasn’t by much but from what he had already found out about the General, Bailey had an idea that he had noticed. In the end, he stood up straight to look presentable.

General Prior paused as he entered. For a second or two, Bailey thought he might be doing something wrong but the older man instead appeared to be thinking, his eyes temporarily distant as he looked at his new aide. It was gone within moments.

‘’ Major Everett Bailey,’’ he said, almost announced, and reached out his hand to shake Bailey’s. He grasped it firmly. ‘’ I am General Sanborn Prior. It’s nice to finally meet you. I have heard a lot.’’

‘’ It’s an honour to be here, sir.’’

‘’ Thank you, sir. I like to keep Fort DeLacey in as best condition as I can.’’ Bailey nodded, folding his hands behind his back when Prior released him from a strong grip. ‘’ I can see you’ve already met Lieutenant Taylor Anderson, Major, my aide – who I’m sure you will be seeing a lot of over your time here.’’ Bailey’s gaze moved across to Anderson. He suddenly noticed how very green his eyes were, though they lacked the sparkle Bailey would have thought a man as young as him would have. ‘’...though just Dandy will do,’’ Prior continued with a small smile on his face, still referring to his other aide. Bailey couldn’t help seeing the way Anderson looked down for a moment. ‘’ A little less formal, I must say, but it’s what I have come to know him by. And what is wrong with a little informality?’’

Bailey smiled politely, though by the sight of the room around him, informality was by no means the first thing on the general’s mind. ‘’ Nothing, sir,’’ he replied. Prior nodded, a sense of fleeting absent mindedness passing over him again, and then walked around to the head of the table. Anderson obediently pulled out the chair for him and as he sat, the general gestured over at Bailey to sit too. Bailey joined him and across the table, Anderson did also.

When they were seated, the door opened again and a young servant hurried in, laden with plates filled almost dangerously with the still steaming meal. The three men were served and Bailey heard Anderson mutter a gracious thanks; the only one of them that did so.

Despite this though, there was an almost overwhelming sense of cordiality over the dinner. Bailey had known that this would be a professional and respectful affair, both sides wishing to make the best impression possible on the other, but if he was truthful, he had never liked occasions like these. Something about them made him feel uncomfortable and awkward and that had always been the same, even more so when he was dining with somebody he had never met beforehand.

Luckily though, there were no prolonged painful silences. General Prior asked him many questions, mainly about his past as a soldier, and Bailey relayed him as many details as he could without pulling on any sore strings. He was, and had been, in the 2nd US Cavalry Regiment since the banks burst into the Civil War and had seen so many fights that when looking back, he wondered often where one ended and the other began. He tried to remember for the sake of his consistency in front of his new commander but he quickly realised that all definition was fading and it had been for a long while. He hadn’t said it yet he knew why that was. His mind was more of a defence than he had ever felt, himself, back in the war and it had clouded in some parts for this reason amongst many. He didn’t want to remember. Even though he could never let it go, he didn’t want to remember. Not the bad parts at least. Not the ones that had him waking up with a sheen of that horrid cold sweat on his skin.

He must have trailed off somewhere through the dinner, his words drifting and eyes hazing as the general would mention later, because when his gaze returned back to his meal and reality, Prior was staring at him even harder than how he had stared before. He had excused himself but neither the general, nor Anderson, appeared to have the slightest care.

Prior had instead proceeded to change the subject upon himself and his fort. Bailey learnt that it had been constructed about a year ago with the intention of guarding emigrant travellers from both the unforgiving weather and the threat of Indians. He said he had heard similar things about the now withering Fort Phil Kearny yet Prior had insisted that they had had hardly any bother from the hostiles there, at ‘their fort’ as he continuously proclaimed it as with a twinkle of pride in his eyes, and that he expected the post to maintain security and safety for as far as he could see. Bailey was almost convinced by the strength and satisfaction in his tone but on closer thought, he wasn’t sure what he was convinced about: the integrity of this little garrison or the confidence the general radiated when he talked about it.

He knew he would have the chance to make that decision by himself in the time to come. For now, he tried to remain neutral.

He hadn’t considered that for a long time.

TBC
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