Cherish the Dream

by Kathleen Harrington

  “No need t’ be so harsh with them, Captain,” Lieutenant Fletcher interjected with a sneer. “Remember, they’re Easterners. How could they be expected t’ know when the buffalo grass ripens on the plains?”

  Blade met Fletcher’s pale blue eyes with open hostility. “They’d better know it. According to their dossier they are well schooled in the natural sciences. Between the two of them, the Gordon brothers are supposed to have studied topography, cartography, botany, and ornithology. Therefore, I assumed I wasn’t taking totally green, inexperienced scientists on this trip, but men who had participated in at least a few limited excursions into the uncivilized world beyond Manhattan Island.”

  Theodora Gordon’s jade eyes glittered. “I can assure you, Captain Roberts, that we are neither green nor inexperienced. We’ve studied under Thomas Nuttall, John Townsend, and Asa Gray, and have accompanied our tutors on several botanical excursions. We were well aware of the need to be ready to leave as soon as the grasses ripened. Even you must admit that spring has come early this year, and only a soothsayer could have predicted the need to leave before the first of June!”

  Blade heard only one word of this outraged admonishment. “We? You studied under Nuttall? Since when do women study botany, Miss Gordon? Has the learned world lost its senses since I’ve been on the frontier? Are women now allowed to enter Harvard?”

  Her pointed chin lifted in defiance to his open sarcasm. “Women will never be allowed to enter Harvard, Captain Roberts, as well you know. My formal schooling was at Mount Holyoke in Massachusetts. But my family provided me with private tutors from the Harvard faculty during the summer months, several of whom hold national reputations. You’ll find that I am quite capable of the duties assigned to me on this surveying expedition and I intend to carry them out with distinction.”

  “Well said, my dear,” Fletcher exclaimed.

  Blade Roberts stared in amazement at the lovely young woman. “Is it actually your preposterous belief, Miss Gordon, that you’ll be allowed to accompany my troop of forty men into the wilderness?”

  The blond-haired brother squeezed Theodora’s hand and replied with the brashness of a gamboling puppy. “My sister and I are looking forward to our exploration of the wilderness territories with you, Captain. This trip will be the fulfillment of both our dreams.”

  Slowly, a suspicion arose in Blade’s mind. “Just where is your brother, Mr. Gordon? It was my understanding there were two of you. A cartographer and a naturalist.”

  “That’s correct, sir. I’m an experienced mapmaker. I’ve studied under some of the best topologists at Harvard, Theodora, my sister, is the naturalist and has studied botany. I’m sure you’ll find we’re well qualified for our positions on this campaign.”

  Colonel Kearny left the map-laden table over which he’d been leaning and came to stand beside the young lady. “Miss Gordon has been employed by the Linnean Society of Massachusetts to study and complete detailed drawings of the flora and fauna to be found in the unexplored West. Her work will extend and supplement the studies of Nuttall, Audubon, and Townsend. Work for which she is well qualified, I might add.” Kearny turned a glare on the captain that defied any possible thought of insubordination. “She will accompany you on this mission, Captain Roberts.”

  “The hell she will!” Blade growled. He jammed an unlit cheroot into his mouth and rocked back on the heels of his highly polished cavalry boots. His jaw jutted out pugnaciously and his narrowed eyes seemed to dare the foolish New Englanders to protest.

  It was Kearny who broke the awkward silence. He turned to the shocked group, standing wide-eyed and self-conscious in the center of the room, and swept his hand toward the door in a polite wave of dismissal. “If you’ll be kind enough to leave us, Miss Gordon? Mr. Gordon? Gentlemen? I’d like to have a few words with my junior officer alone, please.”

  In his early forties and well known for his strong, intelligent leadership, Lieutenant Colonel Stephen Watts Kearny was a hot-tempered frontier veteran. Admired by the men under his authority and by the hierarchy in Washington alike, he had been sent to administrate the westernmost army outpost of the frontier, a command which, in effect, covered millions of acres of uncivilized Indian country known as the Great American Desert. A slight man of medium height, with large round eyes over a prominent nose, he maintained firm control of the soldiers under him by his personal strength and charisma. He now turned this combination on the captain who stood so contentiously before him.

  Pointing to a chair piled high with books, he spoke in a calm manner. “Get rid of that seegar, Captain Roberts, and sit down. There are a few things we’d better discuss before you return to your socializing.”

  Blade threw the unlit cheroot on the desk. “I’d rather stand, sir.” Determination showed in the belligerent set of his shoulders and the clenched fists at his sides. His black eyes were as hard as obsidian.

  “Very well. As you will.” Kearny sat down in the chair behind his desk and leaned back, his chin cupped in one hand. “You seem to object to Miss Gordon’s participation in this survey, Captain Roberts,” Kearny said quietly. “Do you doubt her qualifications? I can assure you, her credentials are all in order.”

  Blade stepped forward and leaned both hands on the desk. “My God, Colonel, how can you even consider this ridiculous plan? No white woman has ever crossed the plains! Taking a female out there would be exposing her to horrible risks.” He straightened and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Dammit, she’ll be dead within a month.”

  “Nonsense, Blade. The plains are home to countless women who survive out there quite well.”

  “Hell, yes! Indian women! Females born and raised in the broiling heat and freezing winds and the day-to-day uncertainty of raiding war parties. What do you think would happen to Theodora Gordon should she fall into the hands of the Blackfoot or the Gros Ventres?”

  Kearny jumped up. His words were sharp. “It’s your responsibility, Captain Roberts, to see that Miss Gordon doesn’t fall into the hands of savages.”

  Kearny strode to the center of the room’s braided rag rug. Turning, he faced the captain. Concern edged his even words. “Keep that girl close to you, Blade. And keep one shot reserved.”

  Blade’s large fist slammed down on the colonel’s desk, rebellion written on his hawklike features. “No, by God! I refuse to take her! I’ll not bring any woman into hostile country. It’s insane and I’ll have no part of it.”

  “I’m afraid you have no choice, Captain Roberts. The Gordons are going on this mission.”

  Blade rubbed the muscles in the back of his neck and faced Kearny with a gesture of resignation. “All right! All right! I’ll take Tom Gordon, as young and green as he is. I’ll wipe his nose and smack his butt when he needs it. But I won’t take the woman.”

  Coming back to his desk, Kearny lifted the map spread across its top and sat down on the edge of it, slowly rolling the paper into a tight cylinder. “You know, Blade, one of the purposes of this mission is to encourage people to settle in the Far West. There are many members of Congress who believe it’s our country’s destiny to spread from one coast to the other. They are the men who’ve supported this campaign against all the nay-sayers. At the very least, we owe them our full cooperation.”

  “Do the Gordons realize that our final destination is California?”

  “Yes.” Kearny stood, laid down the map, and moved around to the front of his desk. Pulling out the right-hand drawer, he removed a packet and tossed it to Blade. “Here are your secret orders from the Secretary of War instructing you to discover an overland route through the Sierras. And your visa from the Mexican consul in Washington. These papers cover not only you and the Gordons but the men under your command as well. They’ll allow you to enter California legally as a brigade of fur trappers.” The colonel shrugged philosophically. “The presence of a beautiful woman is never hard to explain.”

  “Great,” Blade said sarcastically as he shoved the papers inside his d
ark blue tunic. “Who else knows about this secret mission? If word gets out that half a company of mounted U.S. dragoons is heading for the Pacific Ocean, the Californios will meet us at the border with an armed patrol and charge us with illegal entry. We’ll end up cooling our heels in a calaboose in Monterey for the next couple of years.”

  Kearny spoke in a soothing voice. “No one else is aware of your ultimate goal, Roberts, outside of your guide and the three French Canadian voyageurs, whom you yourself told. Of course, Lieutenant Fletcher, as your second-in-command, will also be apprised of your orders.”

  At Blade’s snort of disdain, Kearny continued in his most authoritative voice, emphasizing each word. “When you reach South Pass, you’ll report to Captain Bonniville. He’s fully aware that there will be a woman on the expedition, and he recognizes her importance. If we’re to wrest Oregon from British hands and California from the Mexicans, we’ll need large numbers of families to settle there as quickly as possible. That means we must show the people of this country that women and children can reach the Pacific coast safely. The fact that a female is a part of this pilgrimage will prove it can be done.”

  “Fine,” Blade replied. “But first let me map a safe route over the Sierras.”

  “Damnation, Roberts, you have no choice. Either Theodora Gordon leaves with this expedition, or it doesn’t leave at all.”

  Blade crossed his arms. Scorn laced his words. “Just what idiot is responsible for this madness?”

  “The orders come straight from Washington, Blade. The Gordons are a very wealthy and influential Massachusetts family. One of Miss Gordon’s uncles is a state senator. Her grandmother is on the governing board of the Linnean Society of that same state, which has donated most generously to the cost of this very expensive project. A donation which I am afraid comes with some definite strings attached. Matching funds have also been promised by a New York entrepreneur, who is, I’m told, Miss Gordon’s fiance. The total amount of these promised monies is nearly twice the appropriation ordered by Congress—an appropriation which, of itself, would have gotten you barely halfway to South Pass. You can’t go without their dollars, Blade. And she comes with the money.”

  Blade’s square jaw was set in granite. “Someone needs to sit down with Miss Gordon and make her face reality. This expedition isn’t going to be a Sunday school picnic. The risks will be almost insurmountable for the men, let alone a woman. Surely someone can make her see reason.”

  Kearny sighed. “Theodora wants to go on this trip to learn more about the wilderness. No one outside her family takes her so called studies seriously. But certain members of Congress want her to go because she’s a woman. I’m sure some of the dangers have been mentioned to her. I don’t want you upsetting her, Blade, about things that might not happen.” He retrieved the rolled-up map and pointed it at the captain like a marshal’s baton. “You’re under orders not to bring up this subject with her. The decision has been made at the highest level. It’s completely out of your hands.”

  “Why wasn’t I told all this before?”

  “Dammit, Blade, because I knew you’d react exactly the way you are now.”

  “And if I refuse to take Miss Gordon?”

  Shaking his head in exasperation, Colonel Kearny walked over to the window. As he looked out at the guests on his trampled lawn, their gay party costumes highlighted by the colored lanterns, he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of complete indifference and made his bluff. “Then I’ll be forced to replace you with Wesley Fletcher.”

  The smack of a fist hitting the wall brought the colonel around.

  Swearing savagely, Blade turned and opened the door, then stopped, his hand on the knob. He looked back over his shoulder. “And what if Miss Gordon changes her mind and decides not to go with us?”

  “If Miss Gordon decides of her own volition not to participate in this history-making junket, then of course, you may leave without her.”

  “That’s all I need to know,” Blade said, and exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 2

  “Theodora Gordon realized with embarrassment that she danced the waltz with the agility and precision of a twelve year-old child. Parties and flirtations had never interested her, not even in her adolescence. During the summer of her fifteenth year she had invested exactly six hours to the study of the dance as a special surprise for her father’s birthday celebration. She’d waltzed with him that night and he’d declared her a wonderful dancer. Since that time, no other partner had ever paid her a single compliment on her dancing skills; had anyone done so she would have called him a liar.

  Now, eight years after those few short lessons, she dearly regretted their brevity. Held tightly in the arms of Lieutenant Wesley Fletcher, the strains of the waltz floating around them in three-quarter time, Theodora trod on his previously immaculate cavalry boots on every second beat. Had she been able to listen to the music, she reasoned to herself, she might have had a chance. But inside her head, drowning out the lovely melody, echoed the sarcastic words of devastatingly handsome Captain Blade Roberts: Since when do women study botany? She smiled apologetically at the tall, fair-haired Lieutenant Fletcher and shook her head. “Perhaps we should sit down, Lieutenant. I seem to be dancing more on your toes than on my own.”

  Undaunted, Fletcher tightened his grip around her waist and gazed into her eyes. “You’re doin’ fine, Miz Gordon. Just relax and follow my lead. You’re upset, and understandably so. But don’t let anythin’ that Captain Roberts said bother you. It’s common knowledge the fellow’s manners are atrocious. Come on now, smile and enjoy the party. It’s in our honor, after all.”

  Why had Roberts taken such an extreme dislike to her? she wondered miserably, recalling how attracted she’d felt when she’d seen him standing on the balcony above her that afternoon. And why should she care so much? After all, she’d never been successful at flirtations or particularly at ease with small talk. Lines of beaux had never stood on her doorstep, for when it came to talking with women, most men seemed to prefer empty-headed nonsense to discussions of science or politics or even business. Usually, when they realized she was bookish, they reacted with polite indifference or boredom. None had shown such outright anger at her as the captain, but then, he was like no man she’d ever met.

  Thankfully, Theodora heard the band strike up “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” signaling that dinner was about to be served. She accepted with gratitude Fletcher’s escort onto the wide portico that stretched across the back of the house.

  Outside on the lawn, borrowed tables were piled high with hams, roasts, and game birds. Mounds of corn biscuits, butter and honey, platters of fresh greens and wild spring onions were crowded between plates of chocolate cakes, berry pies, and syllabubs. In honor of the evening’s special guests, there were bottles of champagne, and the pop-pop-pop of the corks as the bottles were broached brought squeals of laughter from the ladies putting the final touches on the sumptuous meal.

  At one long table in the center of the yard, Theodora could see Colonel and Mrs. Kearny just sitting down. Throughout the crowd, amongst the tailored blue uniforms of the First Regiment of Dragoons and the pastel chiffon finery of their wives and daughters, stood out the homemade buckskin outfits of the Creole and French Canadian voyageurs who were also members of the expedition. These veteran trailblazers appeared ill at ease among the citified population of Fort Leavenworth, but the presence of the ladies seemed to act as a powerful inducement to socialize despite their rusty manners.

  “I believe this table is reserved for the rankin’ members of the expedition, Miz Gordon,” Fletcher said, leading her to a long table and pulling out a chair for her with a flamboyant gesture.

  Apprehensively, Theodora sank down, for directly across from her sat Captain Blade Roberts, who impolitely remained seated at her appearance. Roberts watched her take her place without a word, his black stare raking insolently over her, but when Lieutenant Fletcher sat down beside her, R
oberts broke his self-imposed silence. “Don’t get too comfortable there, Fletcher. Your place is somewhere at the other end of the table.”

  With mute disbelief Fletcher read the name on the place card. He’d exchanged that very card for his own not thirty minutes before and it didn’t take the wisdom of Solomon to know who had switched it back again.

  Ignoring Blade, he turned to Theodora. “I’m sorry, Miz Gordon. I seem t’ have taken your brother’s chair. May I have the pleasure of another dance with you after dinner?”

  Pleased by his chivalry, Theodora smiled. “You’re very brave, Lieutenant Fletcher, to ask for more after the terrible punishment I meted out to you on the dance floor already tonight. Another waltz with me and you might not be able to walk tomorrow.”

  Without compunction, Blade interrupted this private exchange. “Yes, I saw you dancing with Miss Gordon earlier, Fletcher. No doubt, the lady’s heavy regimen of studies never allowed her time for the practice of the finer arts in which the fairer sex are generally educated. You’re to be commended on your fortitude.”

  Fletcher kept his eyes on Theodora as he lifted her hand to his lips. He seemed to be holding himself on a tight rein. “If it’s brave t’ hold an angel in one’s arms under the guise of waltzin’, I hope I may always be considered so courageous. Till after dinner, Miz Gordon, when we shall resume our dance.”

  He departed with a bow, leaving Theodora to wonder again what had set the captain against her. It was a tragedy that the man with whom she would be working so closely in the weeks ahead had taken such an intense and immediate dislike to her.

  The need for conversation between them was forestalled by the arrival of three other guests.

  “There you are, Teddy,” Thomas called to his twin, his eyes twinkling. “I looked for you in the ballroom, but somehow I missed you. Sis, this is Miss Ellen Henderson, the commandant’s niece. She’s from Atlanta and is visiting her aunt and uncle for the summer. And this is Second Lieutenant Peter Haintzelman, who’s going to be the clerk on our journey.”