The Jeweled Spur (2 page)

Suddenly he realized that she was keeping something from him. They’d been closer than other fathers and daughters—mostly because of the demands of his job. He’d been with the
Department of Indian Affairs for years after the war and had always taken her with him. Then he’d joined the army, and he’d married Faith and they’d had their own children. But he and Laurie had stayed close, and now he asked directly, “Don’t think you can hide anything from your old man! What is it?”

Laurie said weakly, “Well—it’s not
serious,
Dad—”

“Suppose you just tell me, and I’ll make up my own mind as to how serious it is.”

Desperately, Laurie blurted out, “He—he shot at me, and it just scratched—”

“You’ve been
shot!
”

“Daddy, it’s not bad!”

“Where did it get you?”

“Right here—” She lifted her arm to show the shirt, which was caked with blood.

“Come along!”

“Come where?” Laurie gasped as he took her other arm and guided her toward the door.

“ To the infirmary, of course!” He gave her a look that was an odd mixture of concern and irritation. Ignoring her protests, he led her toward the infirmary and marched her inside. The surgeon was dozing over a book, but he came to his feet with a bewildered stare as the two entered the office.

“Why, Major Winslow—!”

“Major Stevens, Laurie’s been shot,” said Winslow.

“What—!” Winslow’s words shocked the older man, and his face turned pale. Stevens was in his early sixties and had never been a quick thinker. However, he stiffened and nodded. “Let’s have a look, Miss Winslow. Sit up on this table.”

Laurie glanced at her father, pleading, “Daddy, it’s just a scratch!”

“I’ll just have a look at it,” Major Stevens said. “Where is it?”

“Here—on my side.” Laurie lifted her right arm, and as soon as Stevens saw the blood, his face grew serious. “All right, just slip out of that shirt, Miss Laurie.”

Laurie gave the two men an agonized look, her face burning. She saw, however, that there was no escape, so she whispered, “Daddy, will you wait outside—please?”

Tom Winslow stared at her. “As many of your diapers as I’ve changed—”

“Daddy—
please!
”

“Oh, all right.” Winslow wheeled and left the room, realizing that at the age of eighteen Laurie could no longer be handled the same as when she was six. It wasn’t the first time it had occurred to him, but somehow it troubled him.
Wish all kids would stay five years old forever,
he thought gravely.
A man can handle them at that age!

Hearing the sound of horses approach, he stepped outside and shouted out, “Sergeant Morgan—Miss Winslow was jumped by two Indians.” He gave the assembled detail the information, then said to the guide, “Luis, try to run them down. I want to make an example of them.”

Luis Montoya was a lean, brown man with a sliver of a mustache. “Sí, Major—but you and I, we both know that trying to catch an Apache is like trying to catch yesterday’s breeze. But we will try.”

After the patrol had ridden out, Winslow returned to the office and paced the floor nervously for five minutes, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. The Indians had been quiet, very quiet indeed—or he would not have allowed Laurie to go to the Masters’ ranch on a visit. But he knew Indians and thought,
This might be the beginning of trouble—have to stop it dead in its tracks!
Just then the door opened and Major Stevens nodded. “Not serious, but if it had been an inch or so to the right, it might have been.”

A wave of relief swept through Tom Winslow, and he said gustily, “Thank God for that!” Then he straightened his shoulders and took his daughter’s arm. “Thanks, Major. Come along, Laurie.”

“Will you have to tell Mother?” Laurie asked as they stepped outside.

“Of course!”

When her father spoke that firmly, Laurie knew there was no hope of changing his mind, but she tried anyway. “It’ll just worry her, Dad.”

Tom Winslow was grateful for Laurie’s concern. Faith had been a wonderful mother for the child—had given her the sweetness and gentleness that he could not. He knew that Laurie—except for some natural curiosity about her own mother—had accepted Faith totally. She had begun calling her “Mother” as soon as he and Faith were married, which had pleased his wife very much.

“She’ll be worried—but she’s got a right to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her tone was so forlorn that Tom abruptly put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently to avoid hurting her. “I was so busy bawling you out that I forgot to say one thing.”

Laurie looked up at him, her dark eyes even lovelier for being sad. “One thing? What was that, Daddy?”

“I forgot to say, ‘Your dad is very proud of you!’ ” He smiled as her cheeks colored, adding, “Not one girl in a thousand could have done what you did.” They walked along toward the house set apart for the commanding officer. “You’ve got two things every woman would like to have, Laurie.” He paused, and when she looked up at him, her lips parted in expectation, he said fondly, “Beauty and courage.”

Laurie was surprised, for her father was not usually so vocal with his praise. She had been told often enough that she was pretty—but since she was the only young woman among two hundred young men, she took all their praise with reserve. “These lonesome soldiers would think any girl who isn’t cross-eyed and toothless is pretty,” she’d laughed when telling her mother of how one youthful private had finally gotten up enough courage to tell her she looked “pretty fair.”

And as for courage? She smiled up at this tall father of hers and said ruefully, “I think it was fear, not courage.”

“They go together most of the time,” he returned. “Some men—women, too, I guess—seem to be born without a sense of danger. I saw some like that in the war. Walked around with bullets flying everywhere.” He grinned, adding, “I always thought trees were meant to hide behind, but those fellows didn’t seem to know they could get killed.” They had nearly reached the front steps of their house, and the children were running to greet them, so he said quickly, “It’s the ones who are afraid but keep on going that I admire.”

And then he was assaulted by Jubal, age five, and Ruth, three. Picking them both up, he said, “You two come with me. Your sister’s got to have a talk with her mother.”

As he walked away, bouncing the children in his arms until they squealed, Laurie realized that he was giving her a chance to tell Faith of the incident in private, knowing that she’d be embarrassed by his presence.
He’s so thoughtful!
A warmth rose in her as she entered the house, and she thought, not for the first time,
I hope I get a man like him—but I don’t think there are any more!

****

“Look at that, Tom!” Faith had been bringing the coffeepot to refill her husband’s cup. When she stopped abruptly in front of the kitchen window, Winslow rose and came to look over her shoulder. He smiled at the sight of Laurie standing upright on Star’s back, arms held up over her head, her long raven hair fluttering back in the breeze. They could hear her clear voice as she called to the children.

Placing his big hands on Faith’s shoulders, Tom gently pulled her against him. The clean smell of her hair and the firm pressure of her body pleased him, and he whispered in her ear, “Mrs. Winslow, you’re tempting me beyond that which I am able!”

Faith turned and put her arms around his neck. She was, to him, as lovely at twenty-eight as she’d been when he had married her. “You look about sixteen years old,” he murmured,
bending to kiss her. She clung to him, pleased with the strength of his arms and the ardor of his caress. Then she pushed him back, a glint of humor in her gray eyes. “You get to your soldiering, Major Winslow!” She nodded, then smiled. “We’ll continue this conversation at a more suitable time.”

Tom continued looking out the window at Laurie. A troubled light touched his dark eyes, and he sighed. He sat back down at the table as Faith first filled his coffee cup, then her own. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you, Tom?”

He didn’t answer at once, but he moved the white coffee mug around in his bronzed hands. The sound of the children’s voices floated to him from outside, and his brow creased as he nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I am.”

“About the Indians who attacked her?”

“Not so much that—though it’s serious enough. No more riding without an escort, I’ve made that plain.” He lifted his eyes, studying her thoughtfully, then shrugged his heavy shoulders. “She’s not happy here, Faith.”

“She doesn’t complain.”

“We know it’s true though.”

Faith stirred her coffee with a spoon, thinking of Laurie. She loved Laurie as if she were her own, and for some time had been aware that the girl was going through a rough time. But there had been no remedy, for it was their way of life itself that made Laurie unhappy.

“Do you think this writing thing is good for her?” Tom spoke suddenly, and Faith realized he was not entirely pleased with Laurie’s burning desire to become a writer. He saw writing as something that people did who had nothing important to do. He admired Laurie’s expert horsemanship more than the pieces she wrote. “What could come of a thing like that?”

“I don’t know, Tom.” Faith glanced out the window and wondered how much she dared say to this husband of hers. She was a strong-willed woman, but she respected his judgment. He’d given his life to raising Laurie, but now he was troubled and confused by this side of her.
He’s afraid for
her,
Faith thought, and abruptly she knew she had to speak her own thoughts. “I think it might turn out very well, her writing.”

“But—it’s not much of a life for a woman, is it?”

“It wouldn’t have to be her whole life. She’ll meet someone and marry—but this thing is in her, Tom. I’ve been thinking and praying about it a great deal.” Leaning across the table, she put her hand on his arm and squeezed it. “It’s a gift from God, I think. And any gift from God can be used to bless others, can’t it?”

Tom nodded slowly, absorbing her words. He trusted her judgment, and now recalled the first time he’d met her. She’d been on her way to serve as a missionary to the Indians—with no training at all. But he’d watched her win the respect of the Apaches, and any person who could do that deserved to be heard!

“What should we do?” he asked bluntly.

“She wants to go to school, someplace where she can learn to write,” Faith said without hesitation. She had known this for a long time, but there had been no money—and there was none now.

“Wish I were a general,” Tom said ruefully. “A major’s pay doesn’t stretch very far.”

Faith was very much aware of this, for she’d learned to get by on the meager earnings of an army officer. She hated to see him depressed, so she said briskly, “Well, God owns everything. If He intends for Laurie to go to school, He can afford it!”

Tom smiled, his teeth very white against his bronzed skin. “Pretty free with the Lord’s money, I’m thinking.” Then he grew serious. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

And he did, three days later. Tom was a slow-moving man—except when the situation demanded otherwise, and he’d formed the habit of praying and waiting over important things—something he’d learned from Faith. But late on Friday afternoon, he saw Laurie practicing her trick riding and
decided to voice his concern. “You aiming to join a circus?” he grinned.

Laurie touched Star’s right foreleg, and the gelding immediately made a one-legged bow to Tom. “I might just do that,” she said, sliding to the ground. “Are we going to Prescott soon?”

“Did you forget we’re going to visit your Uncle Dan in Wyoming?”

“No! I haven’t forgotten!” There was no chance of her forgetting, for the anticipation of going for a visit to Wyoming had been the brightest expectation of her life.

He smiled, adding, “Maybe Dan’ll hire you to herd some of those cows of his.”

“I could do it!” Laurie grinned impudently. “I can ride better than any old cowboy I ever saw!”

“Not very humble, are you? But I guess you can, at that.” He walked beside her toward the corral where the mounts were kept. When she’d unsaddled Star and stepped outside the gate, he said, “Laurie, I’ve been worried about you.” He saw surprise on her face and said quickly, “About this writing thing. You’re pretty serious about it, I guess.”

Laurie had known for a long time that her father was not convinced about this desire of hers, so she’d said little. But now her eyes flashed with excitement, and she nodded, “Yes, Daddy, I want it more than anything.”

Tom Winslow was a determined man, and as he looked into the face of his daughter, so eager and so alive, he came to a decision. “Well, I don’t know how—or when, Laurie—but you’re going to get your chance at this thing.”

“Oh, Daddy!” she squealed and threw her arms around Tom, holding to him almost desperately.

He knew he’d made the right choice and said, “Better start praying. As soon as we get back from Wyoming, we’ll start looking around for a school—and the money to pay for it.”

As they entered the house, Faith took one look at Laurie’s
excited face and said, “Well, now, I can see you two have been plotting something. Sit down and tell me all about it.”

CHAPTER TWO

Visit to Wyoming

Laurie stared out the open window of the train, blinking as tiny cinders flew against her face. “Look, there’s a herd of antelope!”

At her words, a burly man sitting in the seat ahead of them lifted his head from the newspaper he was reading. Dropping the paper, he picked up a Henry rifle from under his feet, shoved it out the window, and emptied it. He missed with every shot, and the fleet, graceful animals bounded away and out of sight.

Tom Winslow hated to see game wasted and said loudly enough for the man to hear, “Good thing that fellow’s such a rotten shot, Laurie. Hate to see meat go to waste.”

The man with the rifle swung around, his face red with anger. He opened his lips to challenge the speaker, but one look into the somber eyes of the broad-shouldered officer made him pause. “Man’s got a right to shoot wild antelope,” he muttered, then turned and ignored Winslow.