The Unlikely Wife (8 page)

Aunt Belle shuddered. “I try
not
to think about it.”

Good, Rebecca thought, that meant there was little chance she wanted to
talk
about it. At the same time, she was glad for the interruption. Her thoughts had turned in another crazy direction. She wasn’t falling for Clark Forrester. And she would prove it. She would ride up ahead and talk to him and the sergeant about…why, the Indian uprising, of course.

She shifted position in the saddle in anticipation of a short gallop, but that was as far as she went. If she rode anywhere near the lieutenant she would be tempted to tease him. If he so much as spoke to her, she would be running to his tent after supper for that chess game. If he gave her the least encouragement, she’d be begging him to kiss her—probably right in front of Private Powers.

She wasn’t falling for him yet, she told herself. The problem was that she
could,
if she wasn’t careful.

By evening, when the troop camped a few miles beyond Fort Harker, Rebecca was so agitated even her aunt commented on it. “I imagine it’s the coffee, dear,” she said. “It’s so much stronger than the tea we’re used to. Pass it up at supper, and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Rebecca murmured her thanks for the advice. She knew coffee had nothing to do with the way she felt, but if it kept Aunt Belle from inquiring further, she would go along.

She had made a small effort at their noon stop to locate Powers. She had thought she would pass her regrets to Clark through him. She had found herself actually glad when he hadn’t turned up immediately. Of course, she had been afraid to seek out Clark in person; she might have relented and told him she was looking forward to the rematch, instead of begging off.

But after the long afternoon, she thought she had figured out her problem. The only reason she was having trouble dismissing him was that he dismissed her so easily. She felt more certain than ever that avoiding Clark was the best policy. She would tell him herself that she would not be playing chess with
him. Her mind only half registered the inconsistency of her plan.

While Brooks was setting up their camp, she went in search of Clark’s. She found his tent, recognizing it because it was slightly larger than the others, but no one was around. She questioned a soldier camped nearby and learned that the lieutenant and a few men had gone into Fort Harker.

She was irritated with herself as she walked back to the wagon. Of course he would go in and report to the post commander. He would want news of the uprising. There might even be a telegram waiting for him there.

An idea made her outlook brighten. There might be a telegram for her from Father. She could ride in and find out. While she was there, she might see Clark. More foolishness, she realized. She couldn’t interrupt the officers’ conversation even if she knew the post commander, which she didn’t think she did though he probably knew her father. And, she told herself for the millionth time, she was avoiding Clark, except to tell him she wasn’t playing chess tonight. If there was a telegram for her, Clark, of course, would see that she got it.

Her agitation had turned to depression by the time she joined her aunt at the camp table. Belle was darning a hole in a stocking, and spoke without looking up. “Where were you off to in such a hurry?”

“Nothing important. Aunt Belle,” she continued
with sudden enthusiasm, “do you want to go into town?”

“No.”

“But, Aunt Belle, there may be a store—”

“I said no, Rebecca. The town is Ellsworth. I remember General Hale’s description, even if you don’t. Neither I, nor you, will set foot in that town.”

Rebecca fell silent and watched her aunt take tiny even stitches until she thought she would go mad. “Where’s Alicia?”

“She’s with that driver fellow and his companions learning how to cook over a fire. Foolishness, but it keeps her busy.”

Rebecca stared at her aunt’s profile. Alicia was out of her mother’s sight with not one but four men. And Belle thought cooking was all that was on anybody’s mind? Either she was getting used to being around the soldiers, or Alicia had made herself such a pest that Belle was glad to be rid of her. Neither seemed especially likely.

“Where are they?” Rebecca asked, hoping it sounded like a casual question. She realized with a start that she was considering joining them to make sure Alicia was all right. Was she turning into Aunt Belle?

“Right there,” Aunt Belle said, pointing with her needle.

They were hidden from Rebecca’s view by a tent, but, she realized, not from Belle’s. She found herself
relieved that things hadn’t drifted too far from the familiar.

After dinner, Rebecca mentally prepared herself to visit Clark. She would smile, explain that her aunt needed her to help with some mending, casually wish him a good-night, and leave. Leave him wanting more, she thought with a smile before she could catch herself.

Perhaps she should wait for half an hour or so. That would give him time to miss her, even wonder if she was coming. She pictured him pacing his tent, the chessboard ready and waiting. She smiled to herself, then wanted to smack her forehead. Her brain was still anticipating conquest.

The sooner she saw him the better. Her pulse even leapt at that thought. Maybe it was the coffee, she told herself.

She was about to rise from the chair when her aunt looked up, focusing on something over Rebecca’s shoulder. She turned to find Powers coming toward them.

“Ladies,” he said politely, doffing his hat.

Rebecca made the introductions. Aunt Belle, obviously not interested in meeting another soldier, returned to her sewing. Already the woman was starting to fit into the military where the officers’ families never socialized with enlisted men.

“Miss Huntington,” Powers said. “Lieutenant
Forrester sent me back with a message. He’s held up at the fort for the evening.”

Rebecca stared at him as if the implications of the message were beyond her understanding.

Powers, evidently reading the confusion on her face, added, “He regrets that he will miss the chess game.”

Rebecca managed to thank him and wish him good-night.

Aunt Belle’s voice seemed to grate against raw nerves. “You had a date to play chess with the lieutenant? That’s not only inappropriate, it’s foolish. Men aren’t interested in women who play men’s games. Why your father ever taught you is beyond me.”

“Yes, Aunt Belle,” Rebecca murmured absently. Clark had broken the date. She was prepared to break it, but
he
had done it first. What could keep him occupied at the fort for so long? Or was that merely an excuse?

And there had been no mention of postponing the game to another night Was this a rejection? She had no experience with this sort of thing, at least not from this side. She decided she hated it! It was painful. It was humiliating. And she had done it to how many men?

She felt like the earth was about to open up and swallow her. This had been his revenge. She had manipulated her old friend until he ordered Clark to take
her with him. She had held the threat of her father’s power to get her own way.

So he had charmed her. And dumped her. Only she had been more than charmed. She was on the verge of falling in love.

No, that was foolish, she told herself. She didn’t fall in love. And even if he ended the relationship before she could, it didn’t really matter. It was bound to happen someday. Besides, she could comfort herself with knowing she had been planning to end it.

Of course, he didn’t know that.
He
thought he was putting her in her place.
He
thought she would be hurt.
He
thought she would be humiliated. It was suddenly extremely important that she set him straight.

Powers brought one more message from Clark before the ladies retired. The lieutenant trusted the ladies would stay close to their wagon and take every precaution for their own safety once they left the protection of the fort.

Aunt Belle took that to mean that there were Indians behind every bush and announced her intention to remain inside the wagon at all times. Alicia decided on a return to pants.

Rebecca saw the message in a different light. Clark was requesting that she not ride at the head of the column with him and the sergeant. An insult, she decided, on top of his earlier injury. She went to sleep still wondering what she would do about it.

* * *

Something woke Rebecca after too brief a sleep. She lay still, trying to figure out if she had heard something or if some dream had brought her awake. She
hadn’t
dreamed that Clark had tapped on the ambulance and invited her out for a moonlight stroll.
That
notion had been conjured by her fully conscious mind.

She was obsessed. She shifted her position and muffled a groan against her pillow. She should go back to sleep before her fantasies kept her awake all night

Somehow the night seemed to hang suspended. She held her breath. It was the strangest feeling, as if the air was filled with waiting. She strained her ears for any sound that might have given her the odd impression. She could hear her aunt’s soft snoring. Somewhere a cricket chirped.

She had nearly decided her imagination was playing tricks on her, when the back flap of the wagon eased open, spilling moonlight on shiny blond hair. Rebecca watched Alicia ease out of the wagon.

With skill born of practice, Rebecca slipped noiselessly out of her blankets and followed. “Alicia,” she hissed the moment the flap had fallen back into place.

Alicia was only a few paces away. She turned, her finger coming quickly to her lips. Rebecca joined her. “You shouldn’t be out alone,” she whispered.

“I thought you were asleep.” Alicia cast a glance over her shoulder.

Until that moment, Rebecca had assumed Alicia needed to relieve herself. Now, with sudden insight, she knew Alicia was sneaking out to meet someone. “Where are you going?” she demanded in as hushed a tone as her fear would permit. It was one thing to go sneaking off herself. It was quite another to find her young cousin doing it.

“To meet Victor. You will cover for me, won’t you?”

“Victor? Who’s Victor?” Rebecca had stepped closer and took her cousin’s hand, hoping to coax Alicia back into the wagon before their conversation woke Aunt Belle.

“Victor Brooks. Our driver.”

“Brooks?” Rebecca almost choked on the word. “You can’t go off in the middle of the night and meet Brooks.”

“And why not? You’ve done this kind of thing often enough.”

Rebecca heard accusation in the whispered words. “But you have to be careful of your choice, Alicia. And Brooks…”

“Rebecca, you’re a snob.” Alicia pulled her hand out of Rebecca’s grasp. “You wouldn’t give Brooks a second thought because he’s an enlisted man. You didn’t even remember his first name.”

Rebecca shook her head, wanting to deny the accusation even as she realized there was a grain of
truth in it. “Alicia,” she began, forcing her voice to remain calm. “Brooks tried to kiss me.”

“And your lieutenant didn’t?”

Rebecca sighed in exasperation. “That’s completely different.”

“How is it different? Because it’s
me
some man is interested in? Because your lieutenant doesn’t want to see you? I think you’re jealous.”

Rebecca took a step backward. She didn’t know what to say to refute the outlandish statement. Alicia took it as an invitation to end the conversation. With a toss of her blond hair, she spun around and hurried away.

Rebecca considered going after her, but what could she say that would mean anything right now? Perhaps she should follow and spy on the couple. She would be close by if things got out of hand. She realized the foolishness of that even as she took the first few steps in the direction her cousin had gone. What she considered out of hand and what Alicia did would likely be two different things. If Brooks actually took liberties, all Alicia had to do was scream and forty or so men would come to her rescue. On the other hand, if he so much as touched her, Rebecca would want to storm forward and drag the girl away.

With a sigh of resignation, Rebecca turned and crept back to the wagon. It wasn’t until she was curled up in her bed again that it occurred to her that this entire predicament was her fault.

E
arly the next morning, Rebecca walked slowly through the camp. She had to do something to set things right, and she could think of only one way to do it.

Looking back she realized that Alicia actually hadn’t been gone from the wagon for very long. At the time, however, it had seemed like hours. Had Alicia worried about her the same way when the situation was reversed?

She shook her head. The circumstances weren’t the same. Alicia knew Rebecca could take care of herself. And Rebecca knew Alicia couldn’t.

She spotted Clark’s tent ahead. He had hung the mirror on a tent post and stood before it mixing soap in a cup. His back was to her, but she easily recognized the breadth of his bare shoulders and the dark hair curling to the base of his neck.

Rebecca eased forward slowly, ignoring a soldier’s
apology when he brushed against her as she passed a tent. She was going to do it again. She was going to watch Clark shave. Her stomach shivered with anticipation.

He adjusted the mirror, and she caught the glimpse of his eyes before he turned around. She stood-stock still for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might catch her.

Smiling, she tried to pull herself together. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said.

“That’s quite all right. What can I do for you, Rebecca?”

There was the barest pause before he said her name. He set the cup aside and reached for his uniform blouse. Rebecca came forward trying not to look at the broad chest that was quickly disappearing beneath the shirt.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Of course. Can I get you a chair?”

“No thanks,” she said. “This will only take a moment.”

She hoped she was right. She was feeling a need to escape before she gave in to the temptation to test the texture of a day’s worth of stubble on his cheek. This was the first time a decision to end a flirtation had resulted in the man in question becoming more attractive. Before, the man’s flaws had become more apparent In Clark’s case even his military bearing
which had seemed alternately irritating and humorous now seemed endearing.

“Ma’am?”

Rebecca blinked. Lord, she’d been staring. For a second she forgot what she had come to say.

He spoke again. “I hope I didn’t worry you and the other ladies with my message last night. I merely wanted to take every precaution for your safety.”

“Message?” The only message she remembered was the one canceling their chess game. Then she recalled his warning to stay in camp. “No.” She shook her head, hoping to clear it. She had to get this over with. “It’s about my cousin. And our driver.”

One eyebrow shot up, and she felt herself start to smile. “Yes, it’s Alicia this time instead of me.”

“What has happened?”

His expression was back to its usual unreadable calm. He could be sympathizing or condemning; she had no way of knowing. She told herself it didn’t matter. “Would it be possible to assign us another driver?”

“Of course. But I need to know why.”

“He and Alicia have become…too friendly.”

“And that bothers you?”

Did she detect the barest note of sarcasm in his voice? She half turned and stepped away from him, her eyes studying the cloudless sky. “I recognize the irony of the situation. But I have reason to be leery of Brooks.”

He moved to stand in front of her. There was a hint of concern in his voice as he asked, “What reason?”

“Never mind,” she began, finding herself gazing into his gray eyes again. “The point is Alicia doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

He spoke just above a whisper. “Are you jealous?”

Rebecca sighed, swallowing the humiliation. “Look, I know this is my fault. I’m trying to take responsibility for my actions. I’ll talk to Alicia, but I would like to have Brooks farther away from her. Would you arrange that, Lieutenant?”

He nodded. “Sergeant Whiting will be along in a few minutes, and I’ll tell him to make the appropriate reassignments.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, turning quickly away.

She felt the barest touch on her arm. “Rebecca?”

Even before she turned back, his arm had dropped to his side.

“I didn’t want to cancel our game last night. I wonder if we could reschedule for this evening.”

No. That would be foolish. That would be crazy! She opened her mouth to refuse when she caught a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. It startled her into agreeing.

As she headed toward the ambulance, she considered what she had done. In her heart she had wanted to see him again. She had been willing to imagine
anything in order to give in. Still, he had asked her. The night before hadn’t been the rejection she had imagined.

Unless he was feeling guilty about it. Or thought that was the real reason she had come.

She had never been so confused by a man in her life. She had half a mind to turn around and ask him. “Just what do you mean by dumping me one day and encouraging me the next?” she would ask. “If you are determined to resist my charms why make me want to use them?”

Rebecca stopped suddenly, catching a gasp with her fingertips. She
had
turned around! Or wandered in a circle like some poor soul lost in a blizzard. But now that she was here, she couldn’t pull herself away.

His back was bare except for the towel slung across his left shoulder. He leaned toward the mirror, brushed lather on his face, and began to shave. Rebecca watched every flex of his muscles, every efficient motion of his hands. He was halfway through the process when the approach of another soldier brought his head up, and Rebecca’s as well.

“Good morning, Sergeant,” Clark said, and Rebecca turned and hurried back to the ambulance.

Rebecca spent the morning trying to sort out her feelings. By noon she realized she could no longer deny that she was in love with Clark. She had been so certain that love was simply romantic foolishness.
She had found the perfect alternative: enjoy a man’s attention, then move on to another. But she couldn’t imagine flirting with another man now. She toyed with the idea of blaming him for ruining her life, but she had a feeling he had saved it instead.

During the noon stop, Rebecca decided she would ride with Clark and the sergeant. Aunt Belle, choosing to continue in her dresses, kept herself hidden away in the wagon, and Alicia, when she was out where Rebecca might have talked to her, sulked beside the new driver. She saw no reason to remain alongside the ambulance and much to tempt her to the front of the line.

The familiar creak of leather and jingle of harnesses was almost hypnotic. Clark suppressed a sigh. Another long day’s march with the June sun giving them a taste of what August would be like. It would take three more days to reach Fort Hays. There would be three more evenings to spend with Rebecca before the social life of the fort sent her in pursuit of someone else. He wondered if he could keep her attention for that long. He marveled that he even wanted to, knowing how quickly she would forget him. Instead of admitting that he was better off losing her sooner than later, he felt compelled to spend every possible moment with her, no matter how few.

He found himself wishing for an emergency that would allow his military training to return his familiar
control. To have all thought of Rebecca Huntington banished from his mind sounded liberating.

“Miss Huntington.”

The sergeant’s greeting brought Clark’s head around. An emergency all right, just the wrong kind.

Whiting tipped his hat to the young woman as she rode up beside him. “Glad to have your company, ma’am.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Whiting,” she said, flashing him a smile.

She hadn’t spared a glance at Clark. But then, the sergeant rode between them. Spending the afternoon listening to her flirt with Whiting was going to be worse than missing her.

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind,” Whiting said, “I’d like you to ride between us. Not meaning to frighten you or anything, but I’d be more comfortable knowing you had that little bit of protection.”

He drew his horse around, and they quickly traded places. Clark wasn’t sure if Whiting was really being chivalrous or if he was playing matchmaker. He didn’t care. She was right where he wanted her. He gave her a polite smile but wondered if his eyes hadn’t betrayed his pleasure. Her grin looked almost wicked.

“I trust the new driver is acceptable,” he said, hoping to distract her from whatever flirtatious thoughts were circling in her head.

She turned serious immediately. “Yes. Thank you.”

The deep concern in her eyes was at least as compelling as a dimpled grin.

“What did you learn at the fort last night?” she asked.

“I did worry you, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather be a little worried and safe than ignorant of the danger. What did you learn?”

Clark considered how much he should tell her. She wouldn’t settle for a few generalities; the determination in her eyes told him that. Still, she was a woman.

“Every available soldier is out searching for the hostiles.”

“And they haven’t so much as seen them, have they?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “No, ma’am.”

A curl blew across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear. “So the Cheyenne continue to raid. But what can anyone expect? Hancock burned their homes.”

“It’s not only the Cheyenne who are raiding.”

She looked at him sharply, and he wondered why he was telling her this. Was he so desperate to keep her attention? Or did those trusting eyes simply demand the truth? “Kiowa. Even some Sioux.”

“Raiding in sympathy?”

Clark shook his head. “Perhaps. More likely they’ve just found the excuse they’ve been waiting for.”

“But with so many soldiers on patrol wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“It hasn’t been so far.”

She studied him thoughtfully as she said, “You don’t think the troops will be successful?”

He hesitated a moment before answering softly, “I think the hostiles will watch the soldiers and wait for them to make a mistake. They’ll attack only if they know they can win. They will continue raiding and avoiding the army until winter. Then they’ll hole up somewhere until spring when it’ll start all over again.”

“What would you do?” It was almost a whisper.

“I’ll follow orders.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He watched her search his eyes for a moment before he spoke. “What I would do, is immaterial.”

“That’s silly.”

Clark couldn’t resist a mirthless laugh. “I’m afraid the opposite is true. It’s silly to devise a plan I have no power to carry out”

She was still eyeing him speculatively as if she read more on his face than he thought he had given away. “You have an opinion,” she said.

He shook his head and knew she didn’t believe
him. “You have one, I would imagine. How would you approach the situation?”

She looked slightly irked to have the tables turned on her. He watched her chew her lip as she considered how to answer. It was moist and pink when she released it. He had to turn away for fear he would be so fascinated by the sight that he wouldn’t hear what she said. He didn’t want to be accused a second time of not respecting her.

“The Indians have been wronged,” she began. “Their homes should be replaced.”

“And their depredations forgiven?” He turned back toward her. She was beautiful. Her cheeks and lips seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her eyes, shaded by the hat, seemed dark with mystery.

“This is war, Lieutenant. When it ends the soldiers are usually forgiven.”

“And sometimes the losing generals are hanged.” He immediately wished he hadn’t said it. But he had, and he couldn’t turn away. “Besides,” he added softly, “I don’t believe the settlers and railroad workers knew they were at war.”

After a long moment she whispered, “Maybe they should hang Hancock.”

The comment startled a laugh out of him. “Forgive me, ma’am, but being an officer myself I don’t believe I’d like the precedent.”

“I’m serious, Clark. If the government had hanged
Chivington after Sand Creek, none of this would be happening now.”

“That’s a bit of a leap.”

She shook her head and turned away.

Clark let his eyes scan the horizon. It was easy to get caught up in conversation with Rebecca and forget the immediate danger. What he had learned at the fort and not told her included raids within a few miles of the trail they followed now.

“If you’ll excuse me, ma’am,” Whiting said. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the lieutenant here, and I gotta say giving these renegades their homes back wouldn’t stop the raids.”

“What do you mean?”

Clark felt his jaw muscles tighten when she turned toward the sergeant. It was one thing for him to disagree with her. It was quite another for someone else to. He felt an irrational desire to defend her argument.

“Well,” Whiting said, “we gotta have a few victories, inflict a little pain. See, they’d rather be raiding than living peacefully in the first place. They got no real incentive to quit.”

“I can’t believe that.”

Whiting responded kindly, “No, ma’am, I don’t suppose you can.”

Clark wanted to see Rebecca’s reaction to her exchange with the sergeant, but she didn’t turn back in his direction for some time. When she did, her usual good nature had returned. They rode in contemplative
silence for most of the afternoon. What little conversation they shared concerned trivial matters. Clark found the situation surprisingly comfortable. Odd to discover now that he liked the girl.

When it was getting close to time to make camp, Rebecca cast Clark a teasing smile and asked Whiting if he had heard about the chess game of two nights before.

“It’s common knowledge around camp, ma’am,” he answered. “You beat our lieutenant here. I’m proud of you, but not all the fellas feel the same.”

She glanced at Clark again, this time her eyes were full of dismay. Evidently she didn’t realize the sergeant was teasing.

“There’s a rematch scheduled for this evening,” Clark said, bringing her attention back to him. “I will attempt to exonerate myself.” He gave her a smile and watched her relax.