Woman of Three Worlds (14 page)

Brittany pondered. She knew that the wife of one of Patrick's friends had just traveled out to the post and wanted to work as a laundress so they could save toward retirement. But would it be fair to move Jody again?

She voiced this doubt to Erskine. He stiffened, obviously offended that she'd hesitate to accept his generous offer, and clipped his words in irritation.

“He can still frequent the saddlery and corrals. And I suppose he'll continue to ride with you and Lieutenant O'Shea. You must consider me an ogre!”

“No, Major, but—” Brittany floundered.

“But what?”

“You don't smile very much.”

He roared at that. “I must smile and win the heart of a little savage!” he choked when he could speak. “I think, Miss Brittany, that your remarks will make me laugh as I haven't in years!”

Stung by his ironic outburst, she said coolly, “Let me see what Jody thinks, sir. If he's agreeable, I'll begin as soon as a replacement can be found for me.”

“So I wait behind a small Apache and stacks of dirty laundry,” Erskine said in amused disbelief. “One thing is sure, Miss Brittany. You don't flatter a man.”

Beneath his grim exterior, Brittany was deciding he was quite nice and now she dared to laugh. “If you want Laurie to learn that, sir, you'll have to hire someone else.”

His eyes darkened. “She may come by that quite naturally.”

Was he referring to his wife? Brittany felt she had blundered but didn't know what to say. She was relieved to see Michael O'Shea determinedly making his way to her.

X

Bridget glowed at the news. “Oh, I do think Major Erskine's the handsomest man on the post!” she cried. “So distinguished with lovely silver hair but still young! You wait, child, he'll end by asking you to marry him.”

“I hope not.” Brittany felt she'd had enough proposals for a while and thought rather sourly that she didn't want to hear another till—and if—Zach Tyrell miraculously came to really love her and, even more miraculously, grew willing to say so.

With a quizzical look, Bridget asked, “How'll you find out if Jody's willing to go back to Officers' Row? He's picked up a lot of English, but something like that's pretty hard to explain.”

“I think he's really smitten with Laurie. If I take him up there, just for an hour or two, and let them get acquainted, it should give a good idea of how they'll get on—and if they do, I can find out if he'll stay there.”

Bridget made a clucking sound. “If he won't, leave him with us.” When Brittany started to protest, Bridget shushed her. “You've worked hard and can do the job, but you don't belong in the washhouse, lovie. When you can get other work, is it fair to keep a place somebody else needs?” She answered her own question. “Of course it's not, and I'm going straight over to tell Mrs. Rayston—she's the wife of Patrick's friend—that the position's open and she should go apply for it!”

That decided announcement took care of any sense of deserting her friends that Brittany might have had. So, that afternoon she washed Jody's neck and ears, laid out his favorite red shirt, and dressed in her lightest summer dress, which still clung wetly to her back by the time they had strolled across the parade ground.

Jody hung back as they neared Officers' Row, but Laurie burst out of the major's quarters, beaming with hospitable importance. “You come right in,” she greeted. “I helped Harmie make cookies and there's lemonade!” She seized Brittany's hand and pumped it vigorously before shaking Jody's. “I'm glad you're going to live with us,” she said eagerly. “I like boys! Will you make me a bow and arrow?”

Jody blinked. He might have recognized one word in four. But there was no mistaking the warmth of the golden-haired little girl's welcome, and he gazed with amazed delight at the whiteness of her hand on his.

“Why doesn't he say something?” Laurie demanded impatiently.

Brittany said to Jody, “Tell her something in Apache.”

A flash of understanding showed in his dark eyes and he laughed as he playfully said several sentences in which Brittany caught a few words.

Laurie gaped. “What'd he say?” she asked somewhat indignantly.

Brittany smiled. “I don't know all the words, dear, but he said you were a pretty girl with hair like the sun.”

“He did? Apaches can say things like that?” Laurie beamed at him. “Then I'll learn some of his words while he learns mine.” She bore him off for cookies and lemonade as Erskine appeared and invited Brittany inside.

“Well?” he inquired. His rare smile made him look less gaunt and weary. Brittany made a helpless gesture.

“I don't think Jody's going to have a chance to say no.”

“Good.” Laurie's father's decisiveness made it plain from where she'd inherited her habit of command. “My striker can go right over and bring your things.”

And so, less than twenty-four hours after Erskine had offered the position, Brittany and Jody were installed in their new home.

“I don't think you ought to be at Major Erskine's,” grumbled Michael O'Shea. “He's devilish attractive and has that melancholy hungry look you women can't resist!”

“I'm tutoring his daughter,” Brittany said. “I don't think he knows there's another female in the world.”

Michael snorted. “He knows, all right! Clever of him, easing you into getting fond of that little blond sweetheart. I can see it coming,” he proclaimed tragically. “You'll decide they both need you and when he starts his blandishments—”

“Michael, what blarney!”

They were taking a stroll in the grateful cool of twilight. He caught her hand and said coaxingly, “I'm off in the morning on perilous duty. If I'm killed, I hope you'll put some flowers on my grave. But I'd a whole lot rather you kissed me good-bye—and promised you wouldn't marry Erskine while I'm gone.”

“I can promise I won't marry anyone,” she said with a bitter thought of Zach. “But I happen to know you're escorting a big wagon train to Tucson and there's practically no chance of ambush.”

“Drat Erskine!” Michael groaned. “I suppose now you'll always know what I'm doing!”

“Probably.” Brittany smiled serenely. They were back in front of the major's quarters and she raised on tiptoe to give him the brush of a kiss on his cheek. “But good luck and come home safe!”

Eluding his hopeful grasp, she laughed over her shoulder and ran to the house. As she opened the door, she thought she caught a glimpse of Erskine standing by the window.

Almost from the start, life was pleasant at the major's. Far from resenting her, Mrs. Harmon confided that she'd been praying for the day that “Major Hugh would take an interest in some nice lady,” and when Brittany emphasized that she was only Laurie's teacher, Mrs. Harmon's faded blue eyes had a roguish twinkle behind her steel-rimmed spectacles as she shook her head.

“That's all very well, dear, but I know the major. I'm bound he has you in mind for better things than a governess.” She glanced toward the children, who were sitting on a rug, looking at some of Laurie's many books. “I'll confess I thought the major was daft when he said the boy would be living here, but he's really a fine little tyke. Does my heart good to watch him eat my cooking.”

Though they were about the same age, Laurie treated Jody in almost laughably maternal fashion, and he allowed it, dazzled by her exquisite gold loveliness.

She gave him her best ball, a flip-flop monkey, and a string of blue beads he'd admired, but the giving wasn't all on her side. He made grass into necklaces and bracelets for her and a lance of sotol stalk, which he taught her to hurl at a grass target. They often played with Laurie's dolls, but Jody taught her outside games too, such as digging two holes and, standing by one, pitching small rocks into the other.

Jody never called anyone by name and this irritated Laurie till her father explained that he'd heard this was a polite Apache custom. When she learned that what Jody did call her was “my sister,” she was delighted. Mrs. Harmon was “missus”; Erskine, “the major”; Harris, the striker, was “the corporal”; and Brittany, “my teacher.”

Since it was now oppressively hot well before noon, Brittany let the children play outside in the morning, watch guard mount at about eight-thirty and then come in for lessons till noon.

To make sums more interesting, she had them make up problems, using sticks or small rocks. Jody took four sticks, counted them, and announced, “Four men go find horses, mules.” He moved forward rocks that he selected with care as to color and size. “One black horse, one bay, two buckskins, one sorrel. Three gray mules. That make eight.” He nodded happily. “Eight out of cavalry corral.”

“Jody!” Laurie scolded. “That's stealing! Bad!”

He scratched his head. “Horse, mule not from cavalry corral,” he offered hopefully. “From Mexico.”

“Let's try it this way,” Brittany suggested, demonstrating with big and little rocks. “This mare had a foal. So did the buckskins and the sorrel. How many does that make?”

“Eight,” the children chorused.

“Then the foals grew up and two were mares who had foals of their own while the first mares each had another foal.” Brittany arranged more rocks by the “mares.” “How many are there now?”

Jody and Laurie counted to ten. “Ten and four,” Laurie said.

“Lot from four mare,” pondered Jody. “Eat mare, no baby.”

“That's right,” smiled Brittany, and then showed them how to count from ten to twenty.

After the noon meal, which was usually taken with the major, Brittany sat with the children beside her on the parlor sofa, curtains drawn against the glaring heat, and read to them for an hour or so. After that, they were free to play wherever they decided it was coolest.

Jody usually went over to the saddlery for a while and Laurie would labor at sewing for her dolls while Brittany mended or sewed. Laurie was a chatterbox but intelligent, and Brittany found her beguiling company.

One day after Brittany had read the fairy tale of the twelve swans whose sister brought them back to human form by weaving magic shirts for them, Laurie asked in troubled fear, “The prince who didn't have one sleeve finished and kept a wing instead of an arm—how did he manage with that? A wing wouldn't be much good to a human. Could he fly with it?”

“I doubt it,” said Brittany after a moment's thought. “But I'm sure his sister got more nettles and finished up the shirt.”

“You really think so?”

Brittany sent a silent mental blast toward Hans Christian Andersen but gave Laurie a hug and said positively, “Yes, honey, I'm absolutely sure!”

Erskine wanted Laurie to ride, so while O'Shea was gone, either he or Corporal Harris rode with Brittany and the children late each afternoon. Then she'd see that her charges washed and tidied up before supper. After the meal Erskine read to the children, performed on his mouth organ, or played chess with one of them while Brittany engaged the other in checkers. Promptly at eight-fifteen he retired to his desk.

Feeling awkward about intruding on his privacy, after the youngsters were settled on the first night, Brittany had gone into the kitchen to read. After a few minutes, she heard Erskine's step and looked up to find him frowning from the door.

“You're not a scullery maid,” he snapped. “Why don't you come and sit comfortably in the parlor?”

“I—thought I might disturb you.”

“Nonsense! If I can concentrate at headquarters, you certainly won't put me off. The parlor is a common room, Miss Brittany. Come enjoy your footstool and comfortable chair.”

He worked away at his papers, never glancing in her direction. At first it seemed strange to sit reading twenty paces from this intimidating man, but after a time, Brittany lost herself in
Moby Dick
, one of the books from the major's shelves, which he had invited her to use, and it was only when he rose to retire that she saw how late it was and sprang up in dismay.

“I didn't know a woman could sit quiet for upwards of three hours,” he said, a faint smile taking the edge off his chiseled features. “I'm a bit jealous of Mr. Melville.” He seemed on the point of saying something more, then turned to blow out the lamp. “Good night, Miss Brittany.”

So that shared time alone in the evening had become part of the routine, one that was pleasant enough, though it lacked the boisterous camaraderie of Soapsuds Row. Truthfully, Brittany found it much more natural and pleasant to teach the children and be part of Erskine's household than to wrestle mounds of laundry, but she went to see Bridget every few days and often took Laurie and Jody with her.

O'Shea came and went. Between his absences he rode with Brittany and the children. To her relief he said no more of marriage but was his rollicking, high-spirited self. Zach Tyrell, though, might have vanished from the earth.

If Apaches could waylay stages and travelers, it stood to reason that they could attack an isolated ranch. Brittany couldn't keep from worrying and one afternoon ventured to question Michael. “If—if Apaches raided a ranch, how long would it be before someone found out about it?”

“If all the people at the ranch were killed, it might be a good long while. Just depends on how soon someone passed that way or word filtered back from folks the Apaches had bragged to.” The lieutenant gave her a keen glance. “If it's Zach Tyrell on your mind, rest easy. I saw him in Tucson.”

Something in O'Shea's voice made Brittany ask, in spite of her better judgment, “Where?”

O'Shea turned crimson to the roots of his shining hair. “Oh—just around. Anyhow, you needn't fret much about him. He was a good friend to Cochise and the chief's son Taza. Apaches would kill him in a fight, of course, but they aren't likely to bother his ranch.” Michael laughed and reached over to touch her cheek. “What's the matter, Brittany? Glad that Tyrell's all right but miffed that he doesn't come courting?”