A Journey of the Heart Collection (34 page)

“Isaac. I thought it was Rand.” A delicate blush bloomed in her cheeks, and she avoided his eyes.

“He sent me to fetch you two ladies. Your quarters are ready for your inspection.” He took out his large white handkerchief and carefully wiped the corner of her mouth. “Jam,” he said with a gentle smile. He wished he could kiss it off. She was the cutest little thing.

Emmie had flushed when Isaac showed up at the door. Why did he always have to catch her at such a disadvantage? Besides, she wasn't interested in a flirtation with anyone, no matter how attractive he was. He looked particularly handsome with his auburn hair ruffled by the wind and his face tanned from the sun. Her face flamed as he grinned at her discomfiture.

“I'll get Sarah.” She left him standing at the open door as she went to fetch her friend.

“Are our quarters close to Amelia's?” Sarah asked. She and Emmie snatched up their bonnets from the hook near the door and followed Isaac down the steps.

“The permanent ones will be next door.”

“Permanent ones? Where are we going now?”

Isaac pointed toward a group of tents in a small open space near the quartermaster's yard.

“You're joking, right?” Sarah stopped and looked up at Isaac in dismay. “Amelia says we'll have snow soon. We can't live in a tent.”

“It's just while your quarters are built. We've put a Sibley stove in for you to keep the cold away. Rand tried his best to get you something else. Jacob even offered to let you stay with them, but you saw how small their place is. This is the best the quartermaster could do on short notice.”

Sarah bit her lip. “Well, if it's the best he could do, then we have no choice. Please don't say anything to Rand about my being upset.”

Isaac glanced at Emmie. “Think you can stand it too?”

“Of course,” she said with more certainty than she felt.

He smiled again, and Emmie thought she saw a hint of admiration in his blue eyes, but she pushed the thought away. She didn't want admiration or anything else from him, she told herself firmly.

Rand was busy directing soldiers where to put the barrels of their belongings when they arrived. “I'm sorry, Green Eyes, but this will have to do for now. But it's not too bad. See, we've put three A tents together to make three rooms. We can store our trunks and mess chest in one. You and I can sleep in here, and Emmie can have the next one. Joel is going to stay with the Carringtons until our quarters are ready. There's a stove in Emmie's room too, as well as this one. Will you be all right?”

“Of course. This is very pleasant, Rand.” Sarah walked through the interconnected tents with Emmie following close behind. Two army cots and the stove took up most of the space in the Campbells' room, but Emmie would have a bit more floor area for possessions.

“We could use my room as a parlor during the day,” Emmie said with a quick look around. She was very conscious of Isaac's nearness as he hovered at her elbow. When he looked at her, she felt as though he was looking into her very soul. Monroe had been all about making her laugh, but Isaac seemed to care about her comfort and happiness.

“You'll probably spend most of your daylight
hours with Amelia and the other ladies,” Rand said. “But thanks for the offer.”

Sarah and Emmie covered their dismay about their quarters with nervous chatter about the fort and questioned Rand about what he'd learned of the situation.

“I really wish I hadn't brought you both here,” he admitted. “Jacob says no one is allowed outside the fort except for fighting and absolute necessities. Troops escort wagon trains occasionally, but Amelia hasn't been outside the stockade in two months. Red Cloud's tactics seem to be constant harassment. There's some kind of skirmish almost every day, and the Indians seem to be getting bolder in their ploys.”

“But Amelia said some of the ladies even brought their children with them. It surely can't be that dangerous.”

“I think Carrington and headquarters had no idea how strongly the Sioux would object to this fort. They call this harassment the ‘Circle of Death.' Jacob says they're determined to drive the whites from here for good.”

The bugle sounded mess call and Rand took Sarah's arm. “What's done is done now.” He steered her toward the officers' mess hall. “But I want you
both to stay away from the stockade walls, and if you're told to get to safety, obey immediately.”

Remembering the scalped soldier, Emmie gulped.
Was it as dangerous as it seemed?

EIGHT

I
saac took Emmie's arm and escorted her to the mess hall. She could feel the smooth muscles of his forearm under his coat sleeve, and she wanted to draw her hand away. To do so would have been rude, though, and it wasn't Isaac's fault that she found him entirely too attractive for her own peace of mind.

By the time they ate the luncheon of ever-present salt pork and beans, reconstituted vegetables, and coffee, the first fat drops of rain had begun to fall. The clouds obscured the sun and cast a dark pall over the
fort as the wind howled like a thousand banshees. The men had already left for their afternoon duties, and Emmie glanced at the sky nervously as she and Sarah left the mess hall.

They ran for the safety of Amelia's quarters, with the wind driving sand and cold rain into their skin like a horde of vicious mosquitoes. Soaked and chilled, they burst through the door into Amelia's parlor. As they shook the water out of their clothes and hair, a horrendous pounding and clattering began all around them.

“What's happening?” Emmie cried. She'd never heard anything like it.

They all ran to the front window and looked out on a scene of pandemonium. Horses reared in terror and soldiers fought to control them as man and beast alike were pelted with hail the size of eggs. The white missiles fell so hard they left dents in the soft ground. Several soldiers cringed beneath the blows as their hats went flying. It only lasted for a few minutes, but by the time the freakish weather was over, the post surgeon had several bleeding soldiers to attend to. One man was trampled beneath the hooves of a panicked horse.

The three women worried about the men until Amelia spied her husband under the overhanging roof
of the sutler's store. He waved at them cheerily and gave no evidence of dismay, so they assumed everyone was all right.

The next morning Emmie awoke with something tickling her nose. The wind howled through the tent, but she had piled on so many blankets and buffalo robes, she was pleasantly warm and comfortable. She reached up to scratch her nose and touched cold, dry snow. During the night the early snowstorm had arrived, and the wind blew the powdery fluff through the cracks in the tent openings. A thick layer of white covered Emmie and all her possessions.

She sat up and shook the snow from her hair and bedclothes. Scrambling out of bed, she emptied the snow from her shoes. She felt oddly lightheaded as she shook her dress thoroughly and pulled her nightgown over her head. By the time she was dressed, she was shivering almost uncontrollably. As she bent over to tie her boots, she almost tumbled to the floor as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She straightened up, suddenly overwhelmed with an attack of nausea.
She rushed to the chamber pot at the end of her cot and vomited into it.

What on earth was wrong with her? She couldn't get sick now, not with Sarah and Amelia to care for. Clutching the chamber pot weakly, she sank back on the bunk. Amelia and Sarah both felt poorly so often. Who would clean up and cook if she fell ill?

As she thought of their condition, a terrible thought made her gasp. When did she have her last monthly? Another wave of nausea shook her as she slumped against the pillow and thought about it. She hadn't had her monthly at all in August, and September's should have arrived last week. She closed her eyes as she contemplated the possibility that she might be pregnant. It could be, couldn't it? Tears trickled from beneath her closed eyes. Was there no end to her shame? Did she now have to bear a bastard child? Surely not. This was probably just a result of being chilled in the night—or perhaps the influenza, or maybe even cholera. Anything, even something deadly, would be preferable to what she suspected was true.

Sarah had evidently heard her retching, for she scratched at the opening between the two tents. “Emmie? Are you all right? I'm coming in.” She didn't
wait for an answer but pushed open the flap and entered. She hurried straight to the bed where Emmie lay, bleakly contemplating how much to tell her friend.

“I'm fine. Just a little sick feeling. It's probably nothing.”

Sarah stared hard at Emmie and frowned. “You're much too pale, Emmie. Rand, please ask Dr. Horton to stop by,” she called to her husband, who hovered near the doorway. “I don't like the way she looks. And get the fire going in the stove too, please.” She turned back to Emmie. “Now I want you to get back in your nightgown and into bed. It's my turn to take care of you.”

“I'm feeling much better. Maybe if I had a cracker and some tea—” Emmie stammered.

“The very thing. That always helps me when I feel sick. I'll be right back with some, and I want to find you snuggled in the covers when I return.” With a last admonishing wag of her finger, Sarah stepped through the tent flap.

Wearily Emmie pulled off her clothes and tugged on her thick flannel nightgown. There was no use in protesting. Little Sarah could be implacable when she thought she was in the right.

Sarah returned with the steaming tea and a tin
of crackers at the same time Dr. Horton arrived with his black bag. He was a tall, spare man in his forties, with a balding pate and a pleasant smile and demeanor. “Well, now, what seems to be the matter, young lady? You should be up and about. That pretty face of yours is good for morale.” He set his bag down on the bed and drew out his stethoscope. Rand came in just behind him and began to poke at the coals in the stove.

Sarah handed the tea and crackers to Emmie. “I'll run over and get Amelia while the doctor's with you.”

“There's really no need—” But Sarah was gone before Emmie could finish her protest. Rand followed her out after winking at Emmie kindly.

“When did you start feeling poorly?” The doctor put the cold stethoscope against her chest.

“Just this morning.” She bent forward obediently as he placed the stethoscope on her back and listened intently. She answered the rest of his questions and lay back against the pillow as he probed around on her stomach.

“Ah,” he said after a few moments.

“What is it?”

“When did you have your last monthly?”

Oh no.
She swallowed hard, then told him in a hoarse whisper.

He nodded. “I'd say you're increasing. The little one should arrive about mid-May.” He frowned when he noticed her obvious distress. “You don't seem overjoyed.”

“My husband is dead, Dr. Horton, and I have no family.”