Читать книгу The Major's Wife - Lauri Robinson - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Millie pulled her hand off his arm, but instantly wished she hadn’t. His solidness had kept her stable during all the introductions, and she found herself needing that support again.

Squaring her shoulders didn’t help much, but it was all she had. “I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

The only movement he made was to lift a dark brow, but it said a lot. Digging deep into the dredges of her mind, she found a fraction of truth to embellish upon. “Millie is...” She drew a deep breath, hoping lightning wouldn’t manifest out of the blue sky and strike her. “Engaged. Millie is engaged to an army man, too.”

This time Seth frowned.

She held her breath.

He took her elbow and guided her along a well-worn pathway. “Really? An army man?”

“Yes,” she answered, looking everywhere but at him as they walked.

“In Richmond?”

Thank goodness. A subject she could discuss freely. There was no reason to lie about Martin. “He’s from Richmond. His family lived only a few blocks away from our house. The three of us grew up together and everyone always said we...that is, the—the two of them would get married. He’s in Texas right now. At a fort there, and Millie is preparing to travel there. Their wedding will take place shortly after she arrives.”

“What’s his name?”

“M-Martin Clark.” The conversation was making her stomach gurgle. If or when Martin learned of this escapade, he wouldn’t be happy. They’d been best friends for years, and he’d been her rock when Papa died, but he wouldn’t be happy to know she was saying such things. Especially not as a cover-up for Rosemary.

“Is that a trading post?” She flinched as she said it. The sign painted the length of the building said precisely that, but she was searching desperately for anything she could use to change the subject.

Seth had stopped beside her, was staring at her thoughtfully.

“Oh, I apologise, you have work to do. Forgive me.” She spun, and a stone caught under the ball of her foot, making her recoil at the sting. It also gave her an answer. “I was just wondering if the trading post might have a pair of boots. These slippers are not made for outdoors.”

His dark eyes went to her feet and then to several men still watching them before he said, “I can spare a few minutes.”

“The fort is so large,” she said, as they started walking again. “It’s like a complete town inside walls.” Working hard at sounding normal, she added, “Mr. Cutter said there’s a hospital and a church here.”

“On the other side of the barracks, along the back wall.”

His answer was clipped, and Millie bit her lips. Rosemary had said they’d be living in tents and cooking over campfires. Though, in the next breath, she’d insisted it was completely safe and that Millie had to go.

Quietly, not wanting to draw his attention, she let the air out of her lungs. Pretending to be Rosemary might not have been the best idea, but after her abruptness, Seth would probably believe she was Rosemary now.

Oh what a tangled web we weave. Another one of Lola’s sayings. It didn’t help any better than the first one had.

Seth stepped to the side as they neared the door, allowing her to enter first. Millie showed her appreciation with a nod, not trusting her mouth to open again. Upon entering the dark and crowded store, she wanted to take hold of his arm again. The space was crammed with shelves, barrels, crates and tables full of merchandise, and Indians. Lots of Indians. Her heart started beating erratically.

“This way,” Seth said, walking around several tables stacked high with merchandise.

Very few windows let light into the area, not that sunlight would have helped. She had to get over this. Nothing had happened for her to fear the Indians, yet the way they looked at her had her inching as close to Seth as possible when he stopped to speak to someone.

“Here,” he said, pulling over a stool. “Sit down.”

“I’ll have to measure your foot, ma’am.”

Millie gulped, glancing toward a burly man with a straggly gray beard hanging almost to his belly.

“I don’t get much call for women’s boots,” the bearded man was saying as he knelt down near the stool.

She sat, and inched the hem of her dress just high enough to display her day slippers.

“I’ll have to order them. It won’t take much more than a month or so.” The man measured the length and width of her foot, and then stood, tucking the flat wooden ruler into his back pocket. “I could try to get them faster, but it’ll cost extra.”

“Get them as soon as possible, Jenkins,” Seth said.

“Aye, aye, Major. I’ll see what I can do.”

Seth helped her to her feet, then kept one hand on her elbow. “Don’t see, Jenkins, make it happen.”

“I ain’t got the pull you do, Major, but I’ll get them.” With a tip of his head, which was hairless compared to his face, the man shuffled toward the long plank laid atop two barrels, with several people crowded along it.

“Is there anything else you need?” Seth asked.

Millie shook her head, barely able to keep her eyes from going to the Indians again.

A little shudder rippled through her. “Are they friendly?”

His gaze went to the Indians for a moment. “Friendly?”

She nodded.

He led her out the door, and she sighed at both the bright sunshine and the fresh air. The smell of coffee had been overpowering in the store, yet she hadn’t noticed it until they’d stepped outside.

“For the most part,” he answered, glancing toward a group exiting the building behind them. “When they want to be.”

She shivered again. None of them appeared threatening, but their stares were acute and left her chilled. “Isn’t that why you’re out here? To fight them?”

“No.”

“But you would if they attacked, wouldn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Guess that would depend on why they attacked.”

Even her throat was quivering. “What do you mean, why?”

“They only attack when they want to steal women. Not too many women around here. We’d be better off just turning them over, rather than losing men in a battle.”

Completely ignoring the stones beneath the soft soles of her slippers, she hurried to remain at his side when he started walking again. “The women? You’d just give—?”

“I have work to see to,” he said. “I assume you can make it to the barracks on your own.”

The cabins were only a few yards ahead, and she had no doubt how fast she could make it there and shut the door. Matter of fact, there was probably a rooster tail of dust behind her, but she didn’t care. Her focus was on whether the cabin door had a lock or not.

It didn’t, and Millie was dragging, pushing and shoving one of her trunks to barricade the door when a knock sounded.

“Ma’am?” Ben Cutter said, poking his head in the doorway.

“Y-yes?” she stuttered, breathing hard, mainly because her heart was still in her throat.

“Briggs wanted me to deliver this pot of tea to you. He thought you might like a bit more than you had for lunch.”

“Oh, thank you.” Stepping aside so he could squeeze in the small opening—the trunk was almost in place—she waited until he set the pot and a delicate china cup and saucer on the table. “Mr. Cutter, how many women are here at the fort?”

“Well, let’s see, there’s Mrs. Ketchum, and...”

By the time Ben Cutter was done explaining exactly who the other four women at the fort were, Millie was full of additional questions, which he readily answered.

She listened carefully as he explained that the fort had been built ten years ago, when General Sheridan was campaigning to stop Indian raids on white settlers in Kansas and Texas. He also explained Grant’s peace policy. How it promised tribes provisions if they moved onto reservation land, and how special Indian agents had been assigned to oversee the activities.

Cutter went on to tell her how when General Sherman arrived at Fort Sill several years ago, he’d found several chiefs boasting about the raids they’d initiated on wagon trains and when he’d ordered their arrests, the general had almost been assassinated.

Some tribes accepted the agreement, but others didn’t, and considered the reservations safe havens. A place where no one could retaliate against them.

Millie was fascinated by all this. General Sherman and her father had been close acquaintances. During one of his visits to their Richmond home, he’d appointed her father to oversee the men assigned to this fort.

Years ago she’d learned that Seth was a West Point graduate, and had been in Richmond, the day he’d married Rosemary, to deliver a report to their father about the raids and how rations weren’t being delivered.

Millie asked a few more questions, mainly about the Indians, and Cutter answered them, praising the major for his bravery and leadership in dealing with various tribes. The man made it sound as if everyone at the fort was alive because of Seth’s valor.

Having plenty to think about, Millie thanked Mr. Cutter for all his information, and allowed him to move her trunks into her room before he took his leave.

Papa had rarely spoke about such things with her, but Lola did. The housekeeper insisted Indians were as misunderstood as Negros, and that white folks shouldn’t talk about things they didn’t understand.

Mr. Cutter had just explained that the army was the only law in Indian Territory. He’d also said their duties included protecting the Indians and civilians, while teaching the former how to farm in order to feed their families. More importantly, he’d told her Indians didn’t steal women.

Pacing the floor of the dreary cabin, Millie imagined just how irritated Rosemary would be by all this. Her sister wouldn’t just be frustrated with the surroundings, she’d be furious at the way Seth had purposely frightened her.

A hint of a grin formed. Maybe being Rosemary could be fun, after all.

* * *

The report Jasper was reading aloud—about how the declining cattle drives would leave more tribes without food for the winter—wasn’t holding Seth’s attention. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. At one time the cattle drives had run directly through Indian Territory, and the ranchers had been more than happy to exchange a few head of cattle for safe travels, but the growing rail lines were replacing the drives. They’d had only half as many this year as last.

The window was what held Seth’s interest. More so, the activity happening across the courtyard. His so-called wife had beckoned to Ben Cutter a short time ago, and shortly afterward the man had led two of Briggs’s maidens to the cabin. Since then Seth had barely been able to keep up with the comings and goings. Clean linens were carried in—he’d noticed them in one of the bundles—but for the number of trips the women made there would have to have been a dozen beds instead of one. Well, two if you count his, but he highly doubted she’d have his bedding changed.

Intuition was gnawing at him again. If this was Millie, as he still believed, why was she here, if she was engaged to Martin Clark? Or was Rosemary engaged to the man? Then why hadn’t she just signed his divorce papers? Or was this Rosemary, and now that Millie was engaged...

His mind was churning faster than the crank on a Gatling gun as he watched the door of his cabin. Over the years, remembering only his wife’s personality, he’d forgotten her looks. Every man in the fort had noticed her beauty. That had been overly apparent during the introductions.

What he did clearly remember was that the woman he’d married was too full of herself to be concerned about anyone else. Yet the one he’d introduced to his men had taken the time to learn about the people living at the fort.

Frustrated, Seth ran a hand through his hair. Had he been out here so long, gotten so used to deciphering the cause behind every action, he could no longer accept actions—or people—without overanalyzing them?

A sour sensation curdled in his stomach. Martin Clark. She’d smiled when she’d said the name. Briefly, but enough that it had displayed her white, even teeth, and showed she cared about the man.

The name could be familiar, but Seth had met many soldiers over the years. For all he knew, Clark could have been one of the soldiers from Texas escorting the drives that came through this spring.

Seth scanned the area out the window once more, and frowned when he spotted the quartermaster carrying a large crate across the courtyard, toward the cabin. His teeth clamped down. He’d lied to her about the Indians, but there were dangers here. Plenty of them. The Oklahoma Indian Territory was the roughest place in the nation. Besides the very real possibility of an Indian uprising at any time, there were whiskey peddlers, Mexican traders, desperados, horse thieves, cattle rustlers, prostitutes and men just bent on killing. It was no place for women, and no matter which sister it was, he should send her back as fast as possible.

Yet he didn’t want to. Instead, he wanted to know why she’d traveled weeks to get here. Her telegram had confused and irritated him, but now she had him out of sorts. She was the exact opposite of what he’d expected. What he remembered.

“You know, Seth, sometimes what we claim not to want is the exact thing we need.” Jasper had moved, and now stood staring out the window on his right.

Seth gestured toward the activity happening around his cabin with a nod. “That is nothing but trouble, and I don’t need any more troubles.”

“Maybe she won’t be trouble,” Jasper said. “Maybe the changes she brings are what the men need.”

Seth took pride in commanding a well-run fort, but knew the counsel he received from his second in command was a driving force behind all his actions. Still pondering what Jasper could be referring to, he glanced toward the other man when he shifted, pointed out the window.

“Things have changed out here the past few years, Seth, and they’re good changes. Towns are popping up, settlers moving in, the population is growing. Including women. And I’m not referring to the soiled doves that have made the rounds for years. The army sees it, too. More and more wives are living with their husbands at the forts rather than staying back East. The men here want that, too. Most men, whether they’re soldiers or not, don’t want to remain alone forever.”

Seth turned from the window, walked to his desk and picked up the report Jasper had been reading, but it was just to give him something to do. “You know how I feel about soldiers being married.”

“Yes,” Jasper answered. “And you know how I feel about it.”

He did know how Jasper felt. Four years ago, when the man had been assigned to Fort Sill, Seth had refused to allow Ilene to accompany him out here. Neither the man nor his wife had accepted that command. It had made for some tense meetings, but, now, Seth had to admit, Ilene was as much a part of the fort as Jasper was.

Spinning so he leaned against the wall, Jasper folded his arms. “You’re one of the best commanders I’ve seen, Seth. Men not only respect you, they trust you. When are you going to learn to trust?”

“Trust who?” he retorted bitterly. “Her?”

Jasper shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m referring to life in general.”

Tension was eating at him, mainly because his second in command was much more than that. Over the years, Jasper, with his mellow ways that were the opposite of the urgency Seth often felt, had become the tutor he needed, often sought.

“You can’t hide it from me. I’ve noticed you struggling ever since that telegram arrived.”

Seth threw the report back on his desk. “Of course I’ve been struggling with it. I can’t imagine what she wants.”

“Then ask her.”

He let his glare show what he thought of that.

Jasper cracked a dry grin.

Seth ignored it.

“I know you only married her to appease her father. No one said no to the general. Ever. Including me. But—”

“Army men shouldn’t be married,” Seth interrupted.

“In your experience,” Jasper said. “I understand why you feel that way. Losing your father in battle, taking over his responsibilities for your family at such a young age... But it’s not always like that.”

“No?” Seth snapped. “I’ve seen it here, too. How battles take lives. Leave loved ones alone.” Perhaps he’d look upon things differently if his mother had been weaker. Amanda Parker-Wadsworth had cried over the loss of her husband—silently and behind her closed bedroom door. But in front of her children, she’d displayed strength and determination. Seth had seen through it, to the pain his mother harbored while comforting him and his siblings. To this day he lived on the tenacity her resolve had imbedded in him. Every day after school, he’d gone to work in the shipyards until dark, wanting to ease the burden that had fallen to his mother. Once old enough, he’d continued overseeing crews building ships, until his mother had ordered him to stop.

She’d always known his wish was to become a soldier, but considering he’d lost his father and two uncles at the Battle of Shiloh, Seth had given up on the dream. Not only for his mother’s sake—she’d lost her husband and two brothers on the same day—but for his, too. He needed to continue the shipbuilding business his father and uncles had started before the war, make sure his family was financially secure.

Even now, years later, he wondered if she’d truly wanted her sons to go to West Point, as she’d said, or if his mother had pushed him to because she’d known it was what he’d still wanted. It had been, and by then, money hadn’t been an issue. So he’d gone. Not just to make his mother happy. It had made him happy, too. By then he’d carried the weight of responsibility for his family and the shipbuilding crews for several years, and he’d found he liked commanding men. It came naturally to him. What he’d decided he didn’t want was the responsibility of having a wife and children. He loved his family, but the loss of their father had affected them all deeply.

“Yes,” Jasper said. “It’s here, too. There’s no avoiding death.”

Seth didn’t respond. Death was inevitable, but there was no reason to leave broken hearts and shattered homes when it happened. He saw it on the battlefields, but he shouldn’t have to see it in the faces of the wives and children left behind. It was too much.

“Someday, Seth, you’ll understand that living is as much a part of life as dying is.” Jasper crossed the room and left, closing the door softly.

A shiver settled deep in Seth’s spine, making his back stiffen. Living didn’t need to include a wife. Snatching up the report, he forced his mind to concentrate on it, as well as several other tasks that needed to be completed. So it wasn’t until the dinner bell echoed over the compound that he rose from his desk.

From the front steps of the headquarters building, where he was stretching muscles that had stayed idle too long, his gaze went to his cabin. The right thing would be to go get his wife, escort her to dinner. Then again, she had ears, and as he’d told Briggs, she might as well get used to fort living.

He was toiling with his decision when he entered the hall, almost feeling guilty. That instantly changed. She was here. Not sitting at a table set for two, but at a long bench, talking merrily with several men already seated around her.

A growl vibrated at the back of Seth’s throat. That definitely reminded him of Rosemary. As did the way she turned and lifted her brows at the sight of him.

Men moved, gesturing for him to take their seats, and Seth, accustomed to making snap decisions, faltered. He couldn’t ignore her in front of all his men, yet he couldn’t pretend they were happily married.

Or could he? That might prove to be the one thing that would irritate Rosemary—or Millie, or whoever she was. After five years, an amorous husband would be the last thing she’d expect, and perhaps the one thing that would send her on her way.

It was a twist he hadn’t thought would thrill him, but it did, and he almost cracked a grin as he walked across the hall. “Hello,” he murmured, gently placing a hand between her shoulder blades, where he felt the tiniest quiver beneath his palm.

Shock shimmered in her eyes as she answered, “Hello.”

“I trust you had a nice afternoon,” he said, taking a seat and scooting a bit closer to her side than necessary.

“Y-yes, thank you,” she stammered.

The twitching of her lower lip did make him want to smile. Oh, yes, this might be the perfect plan of attack. He should have thought of it earlier. Not doing what his enemies expected had kept him alive for years.

When Briggs opened the food line, Seth escorted her through it, with his hand riding low on the small of her back. He noted how her feet kept stumbling, and her nervousness had triumph rising inside him. They ate with the men at the long table, and Seth encouraged her to answer the slew of questions the soldiers posed. Many of them hadn’t been outside Indian Territory for years, and they were hungry to hear what was happening in other parts of the country.

The attention was more than she’d bargained for—her trembling fingers said that. And the edgy glances she sent his way told him she hadn’t expected him to be so accommodating.

Seth simply smiled, and asked a few nonessential questions of his own. When the meal was over, he took her hand and folded her arm through the crook of his while leading her to the door.

Things were slow at the fort right now. The cattle drives were over for the year and most of the crops harvested. That had bothered him this morning, knowing he wouldn’t have other duties consuming his time, but now he realized it was a good thing. Dedicating a few days to a plan that would ultimately hasten her departure was exactly what he needed.

The way he’d linked her wrist around his elbow had her breast brushing the upper part of his arm, and she was straining to keep the simple contact from happening. Telling himself it wasn’t affecting him, Seth asked, “Would you like to take a stroll through the compound?”

Her gaze bounced to the cabin and she pinched her lips together, which made him suddenly want to see what all the commotion had been about. “But you must be tired,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Let’s just go home.”

“No,” she said nervously. “We could take a stroll.”

“It’s all right, you’ll have lots of time to explore the fort,” he cajoled. “Right now, you need some sleep.”

“No, really—”

“I insist.” Seth let go of the hand he’d kept hooked on his elbow, and looped his arm around her shoulders. “You must be exhausted.”

She let out a sigh that held a tiny groan, but didn’t struggle as he guided her forward.

The sun hadn’t set yet and the warmth intensified Seth’s sense of smell. They were across the compound from Ilene’s flower beds, but he caught the scent of flowers. Or maybe it was perfume, because it smelled more like roses. Actually, he’d noticed a hint of it when he’d sat down next to her back in the hall.

A shiver rippled his spine as he turned his head, glanced down at the woman standing next to him. Her grin was much more of a grimace as she stepped aside for him to open the door to their cabin.

The warm, closed-in air rushing through the open doorway was downright overpowering. Blinking from the sting in his eyes, Seth asked, “Did a vial of rosewater burst in one of your trunks?”

“No,” she said, stepping past him to enter the cabin. “I washed the floors with it.”

“Washed the floors with it?”

Millie drew a deep breath, almost choking. The rose oil Lola made was quite potent and she may have used more than necessary. But it was what Rosemary would have done. “I also had To-She-Wi and Ku-Ma-Quai help me wash the walls.” She flinched slightly, not wanting to get two of Briggs Ryan’s maidens in trouble. The Indian women had proved to be not only friendly, but most helpful in assisting her with transforming the cabin.

“Wash the walls!” he exclaimed. “That oil will soak into the wood. It’s going to smell like this forever.”

“One can only hope,” she replied, sounding so much like her sister she wanted to bite her tongue. “It smelled of sour men before.”

The tick that appeared in his cheek should alarm her, but from what she’d learned today, Seth was not unfair. Though she might have decorated things a little more than she should have. It had been fun at the time, thinking she was getting him back for frightening her.

“My eyes are watering,” he said.

“You’ll get used to it.”

“What’s this?” He gestured toward the table.

“I know you’ve seen a tablecloth before.”

“Not in an army barrack.”

Making her best attempt at being nonchalant, she shrugged.

“And pillows, and cushions, and rugs.” He was walking through the tiny area, pointing things out, and stopped in the doorway to his office. “Curtains? Curtains in my office? Where did you get all this stuff?”

“Mr. Fallon. You must be quite proud of him. He has a bit of everything.”

Seth gave her a glimpse full of disdain before he spun to take a second look at the space that had been his office. Once again Millie flinched inwardly. She’d never done anything like this before, and pulling up the courage to finish what she started was not easy.

“Where. Is. My. Desk?”

His cold tone had Millie gulping, but she managed to find the nerve to step into the room and point toward the far corner. With the desk up against the wall, covered with a tablecloth, and the chair positioned in front of the window, decorated with two tiny pillows, plus a rug covering the floor, the room looked much bigger and more homey. To her. What Seth thought was probably a bit different. Obviously was.

He glared at her with those piercing eyes for several long moments. “You are Rosemary, aren’t you?”

She held her breath, hoping the churning in her stomach wouldn’t erupt.

“Put it back,” he growled. “Put it back the way you found it. All of it.”

Millie scurried aside as he left the room.

“And get rid of those stupid curtains!”

The door thudded shut and Millie let out her breath in a gush. Rosemary wouldn’t put any of it back. So Millie wouldn’t, either.