Beverly Jenkins (3 page)

When a particularly brutal blow struck one of the horses and sent it sprawling to one knee, she could stomach no more. She jumped from the wooden plank into the mud.

The buckboard had mired itself in the middle of the road. The man’s whip continued to fall. His horses continued to scream. Cara, now at the back of the buckboard, climbed in.

She had the element of surprise. She came up behind the man and angrily snatched the whip from his hand. For a moment he was so astonished he didn’t move, thus giving her time to fling the offensive whip into the mud. When he finally recovered and turned on her, she saw the drunkenness and rage in his red eyes.

Cara moved back. For the first time she realized what serious consequences she faced. The big-bellied man looked her up and down. Ominous. “Who the hell are you?”

Cara swallowed fear as she held his furious gaze. “Cara . . . Henson, sir.”

“Where’s my damn whip?”

Cara glanced down into the mud beside the
buckboard, and he did the same, just in time to see the whip swallowed by the wet earth.

“Why you little—”

He grabbed her by the arm, snatched her to him, and drew back his fist. A rifle shot pierced the silence. The man held, looked up, and found himself gazing into the barrel of a Winchester. Holding the weapon was a mounted, grim-faced Sergeant Chase Jefferson. Flanking Jefferson were two troopers, also armed.

Cara’s knees buckled with relief.

“Let her go, Thomas.”

The man refused. In fact his grip became even tighter as he sneered, “You got no authority over me, soldier boy.”

“Let her go, Thomas, or I will shoot you where you stand.” The soldier had not raised his voice, but every word vibrated with deadly intent. He had not looked at Cara once.

Cara waited tensely, hoping Thomas would not call Jefferson’s bluff. She didn’t want any bloodshed. Thomas must have agreed, because a moment later he cursed and flung her aside. “Get off my buckboard,” he shouted.

Cara did not argue. But before she could jump down, Jefferson moved his big stallion closer to the board, reached inside, and plucked her out as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. She found herself seated before him on the horse. She twisted to look up into his angry face. “My men will take care of Thomas and the horses. You are coming with me.”

He whipped the reins around, and the big horse began a slow walk through the mud. Only now did Cara notice the crowd of people her good intentions had drawn, and to her embarrassment,
they cheered and applauded as the soldier carried her away.

But the sergeant was not cheering. In fact, as he halted the horse a short distance from Floral Hall, he said, “You seem to have a real gift for this.”

Cara looked up at the eyes glittering below the Stetson and answered innocently, “What, having people cheer me?”

“No!” he snapped. “Causing a ruckus. That man could have killed you.”

“Well, thanks to you he didn’t. I couldn’t let him continue to beat those animals. Now let me down.”

He wasn’t through. “Being cavalry, I understand why you did that.”

“So your point is?”

His jaw tightened. “My point is, he outweighed you by nearly two hundred pounds, and he was drunk. Had he hit you, you’d be picking your teeth out of the mud right now. Next time let a man handle—”

“What kind of man, Sergeant? There were men around, but I didn’t see any of them helping those poor horses.”

“Oh, are you one of those free-thinking women who don’t believe in men?”

Cara’s eyes narrowed. She’d had enough of his opinions. “Did I say that? You are determined to stuff me in some little pigeon hole, aren’t you?”

“I’m determined to make you see sense, sassy woman.”

Cara’s chin rose. “Sassy, educated, and opinionated. Men hate it.” She stared up into eyes that stared right back. She wondered why her heart was suddenly beating so fast. And why did she feel so warm?

“I came looking for you this morning.”

She felt mesmerized by everything about him, his size, his power, his face. A face she found much more handsome than she could have imagined last night. She suddenly remembered what she was about. “Why were you looking for me?”

“You are a muddy mess, do you know that?” His mustache twitched in amusement.

“Thank you for calling it to my attention,” she told him stiffly. “If you would be so kind as to let me down, I’ll go get cleaned up.”

“I think I like you with mud on your face.”

This statement caught her off-guard, too. “Why were you looking for me?” she asked.

“To apologize. I went back and questioned Worth again after I left you last night. He changed a few things.”

“No!” she whispered in mock surprise.

“Yes. He admitted that meeting you last night had been his idea, and you’d done nothing to encourage him. He also confirmed that you turned down his offer of marriage. Says he didn’t tell the truth originally because he wanted the men in the barracks to stop teasing him.”

“About what?”

“Being a virgin.”

Cara blinked.

The mustache twitched again. “He figured if he told them he had a beautiful woman wanting to marry him, they’d leave him alone.”

“If Worth thinks I’m beautiful, he’s younger than I thought,” she quipped.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he murmured. “I think he’s old enough.”

Why, Chase Jefferson was flirting with her, Cara realized. For the first time in her life she wished she knew how to banter with a man. Well, she’d
just have to give it her best try. “And so . . .” she prompted.

“And so, what?”

“You were going to apologize?”

He chuckled. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. In fact,” Cara added looking up into his handsome face, “if it weren’t so muddy, I’d insist you do it on your knees, but since I’m being gracious, and you did rescue me, up here will suffice.”

“This more of that gift of yours?”

She smiled.

However, he shocked the smile right off her face when he took her hand and slowly raised it to his lips. He kissed the fingertips. “My deepest apologies, Miss Henson.”

Cara managed to croak, “Apology accepted, Sergeant.” Every woman within sight was staring at him. Just as she was. She forced herself to remember where she was and what she was about. She pulled her hand free. “I . . . must go.” She wanted no one carrying tales about her behavior to the school board of Henry Adams. She desperately needed them to hire her.

He guided the horse to the planks leading back to the hall with a skill that reminded Cara of her grandfather’s way with animals. Jefferson eased her down to the walk, and Cara tried to ignore all the interested faces turned their way. “Thank you again, Sergeant Jefferson.”

“My pleasure. Thank you for being gracious enough to accept my apology.”

Cara had no idea where the boldness came from, but she heard herself ask, “Is that the kind of woman you like, Sergeant . . . gracious?”

“Sometimes . . .” he replied in a voice so soft
only she could hear, “but sassy’s nice, too, I’m finding out . . .”

Cara felt heat spread from her head to her toes as she stared up into his dark eyes. “How long will you be staying in Topeka?”

“I’m heading to Texas day after tomorrow. And you?”

“I leave later today, for the Solomon Valley.”

There was a shared silence before he spoke. “I see. Then this is goodbye.”

Their gazes locked. He was about to speak again when an attractive young woman interrupted. “Chase, where were you last night? I waited up half the night. Oh, hello,” she said to Cara.

Cara noted that Jefferson had the decency to appear embarrassed. “Laura Pope, Cara Henson.”

Cara in her mud-covered clothes felt like a beggar child standing next to the smartly dressed, dark-skinned woman, but nodded politely.

The newcomer looked Cara up and down, wrinkled her little nose, then said, “You don’t mind if I steal my fiancé for a while, do you? My parents are having a dinner party tonight—”

After the word “fiancé,” Cara heard little else. “By all means. The sergeant and I are finished.”

Hoping the humiliation she felt did not show in her eyes as she looked at Jefferson, she added, “Have a safe trip to Texas, Sergeant.”

She heard him call her name as she walked away, but she didn’t turn.

“Ah, so you
do
know that handsome devil,” Sybil said. “Just look at that mustache, those thighs. That man could make a woman break every code she’s ever lived by.”

Scandalized, Cara laughed. “You should be
ashamed of yourself, trying to corrupt the schoolteacher.”

“I’m not corrupting you. I see a superior model of the Lord’s handiwork eyeing a friend who is college-trained, beautiful, and—he’s coming this way. Are you ready?”

Cara watched as Chase stepped off the opposite walk and into the street. The closer he came, the faster her heart raced. She had to turn away from those dark eyes. “You, Sybil, my friend, have been in this sun too long. I’m not going to jeopardize my position for a Yankee soldier. I’m going inside. I have papers to correct.”

“Coward. Oh, well, you’re saved. He’s been sidetracked.”

Cara glanced over her shoulder. Chase had been waylaid by a reporter from the
Nicodemus Cyclone.
Chase caught her eye for one last, searing look that shook her to her toes.

“My, my, my,” Sybil muttered. “So things are that way, are they?”

A very flustered Cara excused herself from the reverend’s wife and fled into the safety of Sophie’s boardinghouse.

W
hat a party they were having at Sophie’s downstairs. There were fiddlers for dancing, good drink, good food—really good food. Cara knew, for she’d help set out the buffet. Everyone was having a wonderful time—everyone except her. She sat at the desk in her room on the second floor, the strains of the celebration drifting up through the wooden planks beneath her. The music distracted her, making her tap her toe instead of grading the children’s essays. She finally gave up, stood, and stretched.

She’d stayed away from the celebration for a number of reasons, most important her grandfather. Union soldiers were responsible for his death. Although the men downstairs had played no part in the tragic event, she couldn’t bring herself to go down there. Seeing the blue uniforms brought back memories of the land she’d never walk again, the grandfather who’d been lost to her, and the nightmares that still haunted her from that terrible day.

The second reason she wouldn’t go downstairs was Virginia Sutton, head of the school board, and her morality clause. Virginia owned everything of note in Henry Adams—the bank, the mercantile, the grain exchange. She’d made it plain the day
Cara came to town and interviewed for the teaching position that she was reluctant to hire such a naive and inexperienced young woman. Virginia had said flat out that she was concerned about Cara’s unmarried state and her possible influence on the children; she insisted Cara be held to the highest standards of morality and conduct enforced through a clause written into her contract. Sophie termed the clause nothing less than Virginia’s way of making sure Cara had no fun at all, but Cara had signed without a murmur of protest. Not only had she needed the job, she wanted it. There was nothing she liked more than teaching.

Because of the clause, though, Cara had to be very cautious about her every social contact, especially if unmarried men were to be present. Chase and his soldiers presented lots of problems for her—especially Chase, whom she’d learned was staying in Sophie’s boardinghouse. But even the most innocent encounter could be misconstrued—by Virginia Sutton, if no one else.

The sounds of laughter and conversation brought a smile to her face; the music seeped into her pores and caused her body to sway to its tempo. She felt lighthearted, younger than she had in ages. It was a strain to hold back, not to join the party and enjoy herself . . . enjoy the company of the most handsome and intriguing man she’d ever met.

She’d tried to rid herself of memories of Chase Jefferson, and after her first few weeks in Henry Adams she’d pretty much succeeded. He was a soldier, a drifter, an adventurous man with no roots whom she’d known for less than a day. She’d decided she was a fool to let such a rogue capture her imagination. And that had pretty much been the end of that. Until today.

Well, there was nothing for it. He was here now. And the question she had to answer was how she was going to handle him.

Chase continued to be amazed and touched by the numbers of people who’d turned out to honor the Tenth. The food had been delicious, his men had been feted and toasted. In the adjoining room, the fiddlers were sawing away, and Chase noted how relaxed his men appeared to be. It would be hard to adjust to the trail again after all this.

Chase was only half listening to the gushing young woman seated by him. She appeared next to him the moment he’d entered the room, and introduced herself as Mae Dexter, daughter of the mayor, and one of the women who’d handed him flowers during the parade. Chase hadn’t had the heart to tell her he didn’t remember her, but he’d promptly accepted her invitation to share dinner with her and her father. While politely enduring their company, Chase spent most of the evening scanning the crowd for Cara Henson. He’d yet to see her and was beginning to wonder if he’d imagined her that afternoon.

“Are you listening to me, Sergeant Jefferson?”

Mae’s question cut into his thoughts. Although her tone had been one of playful hurt, Chase heard the impatient undertone and gave the young woman his full attention.

“Are you married, Sergeant Jefferson?”

“Maebelle!” exclaimed her father, turning from a conversation he’d been having with one of the elders sitting to his left. “I apologize, Sergeant,” the mayor said, shooting dark looks at his only child. “Maebelle sometimes forgets she’s still a child.”

“I am not a child, Papa,” she protested petulantly. “I’m almost sixteen.”

“No harm done, sir,” Chase replied, trying to smooth the waters. “I can answer the young lady’s question. No, I’m not.”

When she sighed unashamedly in relief, Chase couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “I’d like the honor of dancing with your daughter, Mayor Dexter, if I may?”