Through Rushing Water (45 page)

Sophia murmured words in French that had Leo scrambling back into his chair and apologizing. Then she turned to Will. “So, how have you been?”

“Busy.” He knew he was staring but he couldn't stop himself. Couldn't she see how great this was, having a family, sitting around the table together? No, she was a princess from a fairy tale, visiting the commoners, him the most common of all. “And you?”

Her eyes sparkled in the light from the chandelier. She gave the children a smile. “We have had wonderful fun. Playing French games, cooking French food, singing French songs.”

“With a Russian instrument?” Yes, the gusli rested on the organ.

“
Bien sur
. And Goldie? How is she adapting?”

“Great. Big help at work. When we're sawing, hammering, making a racket, she lets us know when someone's coming.”

“Bon travail, ma petite chienne,”
Sophia said. Goldie wagged her whole body and sidled closer.

“
Oncle
Will.” Josie uncovered another dish and said a French word that sounded like
dessert.

Will found more crêpes wrapped around strawberries. He smiled at Sophia. “And you said you couldn't cook.”

She did her pretty shoulder dance.

“Miss Makinoff said she can only cook French food.” Leo fidgeted as the platter made its slow way around the table.

“I don't mind. Not a bit.” Will cleaned his plate.

“Iced tea?” Sophia asked.

“I'd better have coffee, if there's any.” He'd have to stop by the hospital, see how Mr. O'Reilly was doing.

“Il voudrait le café,”
Lafayette pronounced.

“Oh yeah.” Leo waved his knife.
“Je voudrais plus de fraises.”

Sophia turned him down, with words that sounded like
stomachache.
Will thought maybe he could learn French too.

Buddy's bark and the rumble of a wagon had everyone racing out the back door. To Will's relief, Mr. O'Reilly was with them. The older man climbed down and started to unharness the horses.

“I'll get that.” Will shoved his feet back into his brogans. “You go rest.”

“I'm fit as a fiddle, I tell you.” The man patted his chest, but Will noticed it took him two breaths to get the words out.

“Seems like fiddles break easily. Thanks, Lafayette,” Will told his nephew as he took Traveler.

“The doctor told you to rest.” Harrison unhitched Ajax. “We've got it. And you too, Mrs. O'Reilly.”

The woman seemed to have shrunk overnight. She wrung her hands and looked from her husband toward the kitchen. “But supper—”

“The children have been fed.” Sophia handed her a covered plate. “I hope you do not mind. We harvested some of your beautiful asparagus.”

Mrs. O'Reilly thanked her. Dish in one arm, Mr. O'Reilly under the other, they climbed up to the carriage house apartment.

“You got the children to eat asparagus?” Tilly asked.

“Well, not Leo, of course. But the other two were adventurous.” She took off Tilly's apron, a gesture that made Will as hot and dizzy as breathing varnish fumes.

“Hey! I'm adventurous.” The little stinker stomped his foot.

Will glanced at Goldie, who watched the hubbub from the back porch. He'd say his good-byes, then they could walk Sophia back to school.

“Come try our crêpes!” Josie pulled her mother's arm. “Miss Makinoff said we did a good job.”

“Thank you so much for staying with the children.” Tilly embraced Sophia. “I hope they weren't too wild.”

“Not at all. They were delightful.”

“We're not wild,” Leo said. “She's used to Indians.”

“Who are much more civilized than you.” Will rubbed his knuckles in Leo's hair.

Buddy barked. A man climbed up the drive carrying a lantern. The lights from the house showed Mr. Sullivan, the caretaker at Brownell Hall. “I saw the carriage return, so I've come for Miss Makinoff.”

So much for Will's plan. Rotten Omaha. Everyone could see what everyone else was doing.

“You are too kind, Mr. Sullivan. One moment, please. I have a concluding French lesson for my students. Line up,
s' il vous plaît
.
Gros bisous
.” Sophia clasped Lafayette by the shoulders and kissed his cheeks. The boy's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
Sorry, kid, I saw her first
.

Then she grabbed Leo by the ears and managed to keep him from squirming away. Josie lifted her face and gave as many kisses as she got. Buddy and Goldie joined the line. With a laugh, Sophia bent to the pups, earning a wet kiss in her ear from Goldie.

Will opened his arms and she stepped into them, bringing her own sweet fragrance. Yes. He had her right where she belonged. “I'm sorry I can't walk you home,” he whispered as the first kiss brushed his cheek, making his skin tingle.

At the second kiss, she said, “I have missed you terribly.”

She missed him? His blood rushed warm, making his head spin. The third kiss was last, but not nearly enough. “Can you wear your riding skirt to the picnic tomorrow?”

Sophia's eyes glittered. “
Mais, oui!
Oh yes!” Then she hurried off with Mr. Sullivan.
“Bonne nuit!”

“Bonne nuit!”
the children called.

Floating a good foot off the ground, Will collected Goldie and they headed home.

Sophia had missed him.

Sophia had been thinking about him.

Sophia agreed to go riding with him tomorrow.

At his gate he stopped. Why had he gone to Harrison's? He couldn't remember to save his life.

But it didn't matter. He'd think of it later.

Right now he had Sophia on his mind.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
HREE

T
hen the player grabs the handkerchief and tries to catch the runner,” Will's sister, Charlotte, explained. A schoolteacher in Exira, Iowa, she expounded on educational topics like a zealot. She had Will's curly hair, albeit with a touch of silver, and Harrison's full cheeks. “Meanwhile the runner tries to get back to the space left open in the circle.”

“Yes, I remember playing a similar game in Russia.” Sophia fanned herself. The heat must be affecting her head. Ordinarily she enjoyed talking about teaching, but today she could think only of Will. Where was he? When would he come for her?

The Union Pacific Railroad's brass band performed “Yankee Doodle.” A company of soldiers passed, marching with enthusiasm if not precision.

“Mama, Aunt Charlotte, Miss Makinoff!” Leo barreled into them. “Elephants, hippopotamus, tigers, rhinoceros!”

“Where?” Sophia reached for her pistol but did not see any danger.

“On a poster.” Lafayette shrugged, the expression on his face shifting between childish excitement and adolescent boredom. “The circus is coming Saturday.”

“Can we go, Mama?” Josephine asked. “I have
always
wanted to see a circus.” “Always” being the entire four years of her life. Tilly and Sophia exchanged smiles, trying not to laugh.

“Only well-behaved children may attend the circus,” Charlotte answered with a waggle of her finger. “No beggars or whiners.”

Sophia hoped she set aside her teacher's voice more easily than Charlotte did.

“Sophia, I distinctly remember pink rosettes on your hat,” Tilly said. “You'll have to let the milliner know they've fallen off, so she can attach new ones.”

“She may have gone back east,” Sophia said, trying not to let the hope seem too obvious.

“Let's go watch the baseball game,” Harrison called to the children. They headed downhill to a vacant lot with the ambitious name of Jefferson Square.

“We had a lovely Fourth of July picnic last year,” Tilly told Sophia as she stacked the plates. “Perfect weather. The whole town celebrated the centennial. One of the Creighton brothers gave a speech. Was it Edward? No, he's passed. It must have been John. Then the news came about General Custer. We were sick with worry for Will.”

“We were never in any danger.” With the exception of the Brulé, whiskey traders, and the heartbreak of watching friends suffer. Sophia offered up a silent prayer that the Poncas might be spared further anguish. “The Poncas all love and respect Will.”

Charlotte fanned herself with a napkin. “Can the Indian understand the concept of love, of respect?”

Sophia gritted her teeth. Charlotte lived in a state with an Indian name, but had yet to meet an actual live Indian. “Certainly. They are a loving people, especially toward their children. Elders are treated with a great deal of reverence.”

Charlotte frowned. “You and Will make them sound like regular people.”

“Exactly.” Sophia stood to help Tilly shake out the blanket. “Perhaps stronger, better than us. How many white people could have survived years of starvation, attacks, broken promises—”

“Do I hear a rousing Fourth of July speech?” Will sauntered up and grabbed the picnic box. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing his wrists . . . strong bones, ropy muscles, long fingers. Sophia's heart increased its pace from a walk to a trot. She squeezed the blanket to keep from throwing herself into his arms.

“Tilly, how about I stow this.” It was not a question. “Charlotte, I'll borrow Sophia for a while, if you don't mind.” He gave Sophia a sidelong glance—a Ponca habit or a touch of nervousness? “We can go riding now, if you don't mind missing a couple of innings.”

“Not at all.” Finally, an opportunity to be alone with Will. She had been waiting for this for weeks, since they had left the Agency. “I would be pleased to join you.”

He whistled. A group of children broke apart, releasing a yellow dog. With a joyful woof Goldie raced around Sophia and Will three times before slowing enough to be petted. Her whole back end wagged.

“She looks wonderful,” Sophia told Will as they walked to the surrey. “And so do you.”

“We're both eating on a regular basis.” Will wedged the basket under the carriage seat, then turned to her and shook his head. “Every meal I think about our friends.”

“And pray they have something to eat.” Sophia nodded her understanding.

With the crowd watching the baseball game, quiet reigned on this street. She should take the opportunity and speak her mind before they were interrupted—before the children decided to join them, or one of Will's old friends recognized him, or someone else wanted to ask about life among the savages. “I have so much to talk to you about, I do not know where to start.”

“I have something to show you first.” Evidently Will had made considerable effort planning for this ride. He had unharnessed the horses from the surrey, then saddled and bridled them. He held the stirrup for her. “This is Traveler. The other's Ajax.”

She released her skirt and mounted. “I have missed you so much. I have missed you at breakfast and supper, and our walks back and forth to school, and your visits—”

His finger pressed under her chin. “We'll talk. After our ride.”

He swung into the saddle with ease. Goldie marched ahead of the horses as if she knew their destination.

Sophia squeezed her knees, encouraging Traveler to catch up so she could see Will's face. But the horse seemed determined to keep his nose by the other's tail. Quite frustrating. Except . . . this was the first time she had seen Will ride. In truth the view was rather entrancing. As with everything else he did, he moved with casual grace. She forced her gaze to Traveler's mane and tried to rein in her thoughts.

Her heart galloped but her horse plodded. Why could she not have a mount like the dapple gray Arabian trotting toward them? The dog behind the mare growled at Goldie. The young rider, resplendent in a crimson habit, whistled and brought the dog to heel. She executed a tight turn away from them, picked up speed, and sailed over a fence. The dog followed.

“Oh. That was Grace, one of my favorite students.”

“She has a pet coyote? Now that's a curiosity.”

“She has a gift with animals. Yes, my students are interesting, and so are the teachers. But they are not you. I miss your thoughts, your way of looking at life, your understanding of our Christian walk.”

“You'll make more friends.”

“But none challenge me like you.”

“Are you saying you don't like your job?” he asked. “Because I'm sure Charlotte could find you a one-room schoolhouse somewhere in Iowa.”

Perhaps he was angrier than she thought. But no, he held his shoulders in a relaxed manner.

“I must apologize,” Sophia said. “When I said you would make a good diplomat, I meant it as a compliment to the most talented man I know. I never meant to disparage your gifts as a carpenter or to imply that you are not skilled as a builder of homes.”