After The Lies

by Mandessa Selby

  She took his hand. The fingers were long and bony and dark brown splotches showed on the paper thin skin. “Didn’t you receive my letter.”

  He shook his head, white hair flying about his face. He badly needed a haircut. Where was the dapper man, who had been her father, gone? He’d been so handsome and strong. Now, he looked old with his scraggly white hair framing a too thin face.

  Esme held herself steady and strong. She could not believe this was her father. He’d grown old and decrepit even though he was barely sixty-five.

  When she’d been a child, he’d been the most fastidious person she’d known. He’d never left the house without shaving. His clothes had been impeccable, his shoes a brilliant shine. Soft leather gloves had covered his hands and he’d always held silver-tipped walking stick. He’d been a dandy and proud of it. Esme had inherited his love of fine clothing and refined European manners.

  Esme kissed his cheek. “Mon Pere, you didn’t shave this morning.”

  “You came all the way from Paris to tell me I haven’t shaved.” He grinned, a trace of his old, charming self showing in his green eyes that twinkled like jewels..

  “That and a few other things.” Esme sat down on the foot of the chaise. “Why didn’t you write and tell me things were this bad? I could have helped. I would have been happy to help.”

  He touched her cheek with dry fingers. “Because it’s my responsibility

  to take care of you.” He caressed her cheek. “You do, Papa. You always do.” Tears welled in her eyes and she turned away.

  On the second floor, a young woman in a tired dress ten years out of date stood with one hand holding back the drapes, watching Esme and her father. The woman’s face was twisted with anger. That must be Simone, the eldest. Simone stepped back into shadow. The drapery fell back into position over the window.

  Esme turned her gaze back to her father. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to shave you. Just like when I was a little girl. Do you remember that? You always liked your morning coffee, your toast with a touch of cinnamon sugar and your shave, all in that order”

  Her father nodded, smiling. “Those were the happiest days of my life. You and Luc, your mama and me, living in that cottage off Rampart street.”

  She touched his hair roughened cheek. “If only time would have stood still.”

  He shook his head. “So much has changed.” Regret shone in his eyes.

  “Papa, where’s your shaving kit?”

  He waved his arm toward the second floor. “In my bedroom on the night table.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Esme returned to the house, her decision made. She would not go to a hotel, but stay here. Her Papa needed her in a way he had never needed her before and she would not abandon him.

  In the dining room she found Natalie watching at one of the windows. “I’ll be staying for awhile.”

  Natalie’s face contorted. “No. I won’t allow it.”

  Esme’s voice was hard. “You have no choice.”

  “Then you sleep in the attic. You’ll be right at home in the slave quarters.”

  Esme stared at the other woman for a long moment, and something grew in her. All her life, she’d been slightly fearful of Natalie because of the power Natalie had once wielded. She had had Esme and Luc sent far away. She had hammered a wedge between them and their father. She had stepped into the role that had originally belong to Esme’s mother.

  But time had changed things. Esme was now the one in control. She laughed as she stepped up to Natalie and looked down her regal nose at the petite southern woman. “Push me too hard, Natalie, and you’ll be lucky to end up there yourself.”

  Natalie’s face went ashen. She stepped back, hatred glittering in her eyes like a fever. Suddenly, she whirled and stalked away.

  Natalie was a bully, and like a typical bully backed down when faced with someone who could stand up to her. As a child, Esme could never have stood up to Natalie, but time had changed their roles. Esme took no joy in her victory although she did relish the power to get back a bit of her own.

  Esme turned toward the front of the house. She needed her trunks. As she walked through the barren rooms, she wondered if the furniture merchant was still on Royal Street. She would make a trip first thing in the morning. In the meantime, this house needed a thorough cleaning.

  For the first time since Philippe’s death, Esme felt as though she had found something to cling to. Her family was in tatters, and she was going to fix it no matter how hostile Natalie and her daughters were.

  The girls were still Esme’s blood and she wasn’t going to abandon them. Nor would she tolerate the rift between her father and Luc. Being with him would give her time to figure out a way to get them back together.

  She’d always been the peacemaker.

  She gave the cab driver ten dollars and asked him to fetch her trunks. He stared at the money and saluted her. When he’d clattered down the street, Esme returned to the house to fetch her father’s shaving kit.

  * * *

  Luc sat on the ground next to his cot. He still couldn’t believe that the boy, he thought Cal to be, was really a young woman. Now that he knew, he could see the woman in the subtle lines of her face. How had he missed something so obvious? He studied at her hands. Despite the calluses, her fingers were long and delicate, the hands of a pianist.

  How could he have mistaken all the delicate beauty in her contours of her face for that of a fourteen year old boy? For beautiful she was. Now that his eyes were opened to her deception, he could see what she was much more clearly.

  Cal’s eyes fluttered open. “What happened?” she asked as she struggled to sit up. She groaned and closed her eyes.

  Luc grabbed her shoulders, pushing her firmly back down to the cot. “You’ve been unconscious.”

  “The outlaws are getting away.” She rubbed her hand against her forehead. “I have to stop them.”

  “Lieutenant Cooper will have them back in custody in no time,” Luc assured her. “If not for your alertness, we wouldn’t have known they were getting away.”

  She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again. Her head shifted from side to side. “Why am I in your tent?”

  “I thought you needed privacy.” Her lips began to tremble. Her eyes searched the small space. “This isn’t proper.” She obviously figured her secret was still safe.

  “Why not, Cal?” “Because I’m black and you’re white.” Luc almost smiled. “And I thought it was because you’re a woman.” Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, but no words came out.

  A flash of panic crossed her face. She’d always had a ready come back for his statements, but for the moment she was wordless.

  “I’m surprised,” he said with a chuckle, “Have you nothing to say? This is a new side of you.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “How did you know?”

  Luc had had enough lovers in the past to know the female body inside and out. He figured it would only have been a matter of time before he discovered Cal’s secret. “I’m not some callow youth unaware of the charms of a woman’s body.” And he had to admit, she had a fine body: supple, small and delicate, yet strong.

  She clutched her shirt. “You touched me?”

  “I was examining you. I thought you were hurt. You had blood all over you.”

  “That bastard hit me.” She touched her head. “And he kicked me.”

  “You seem to be fine. I didn’t find any broken bones.” Though she would have bruises. One already was starting on her cheek. She’d have quite a black eye in the morning. He had actually enjoyed touching her, and had also been relieved to know that his feelings of attraction had a reason for being. He wasn’t attracted to her because she was boy.

  “Why are you watching me like that?”

  She was an innocent. He wondered if his desire for her was so plain. He certain felt it very strongly. But her presence as his scout presented new problems. He couldn’t have a woman as his s
cout. “You’ll have to go back home.”

  She shook her head violently. “No. I want my land. You promised me forty acres if I worked for the Army. I’m not going home.”

  “Cal, you’re a woman.”

  “I promised my mother I’d get that land. She deserves a better life than what she has. My people left Florida so we didn’t have to be slaves. And now the white man doesn’t want us because we’re Indian. I know if I have a paper that says I own this piece of land, nobody can make me move. And I’m not letting anyone take away what I want. Not even you.”

  She sounded so vehement. He couldn’t help but admire her strength of will. “You can’t stay with me and my men.”

  “You can’t force me to go.” She grabbed his arm. “I signed a contract. And I intend to keep my word.”

  “I can’t keep you here.” He grasped her hand. Heat and fire caressed his skin. He wanted to let go, but he didn’t seem to be able to. “You’re a danger.” She had no idea how much a danger she was, as much to him she was to the soldiers.

  Snatching her hand away, she fell back on the cot. “I saved your life.”

  Her tone was fierce. “You owe me.”

  For a second Luc tried to deny what she had done. He didn’t owe her so much that he could deceive Major Adams. Why not? A small voice nagged at him. Luc had his own secret.

  Shots sounded in the distance, startling Luc. He stood up and flung the flap of tent back to stare out into the darkness. The horses milled nervously on their picket line.

  “What was that?” Cal asked from behind him.

  “I don’t know,” Luc said, frowning. What was going on out in the dark? Recovering two unarmed outlaws shouldn’t require gunfire.

  He turned back to Cal. She lay on his cot looking tired and pale. Her eyes were huge in her small face and her hands plucked nervously at the collar of her shirt. What was he going to do with her?

  Reggie suddenly flipped open the front flap. “All secure, Luc. Sorry, but the outlaws are dead. One fell off a rock and the other one resisted, trying to kill Sergeant-Major Parker. Must have found a gun a somewhere.”

  Tell Reggie, Luc ordered himself, that Cal was a woman. He glanced at Cal. She watched him closely, fear in her eyes. “Dammit, I wanted those men alive.”

  Reggie shrugged. “Couldn’t be helped, Luc. They put up too much of a struggle. Better dead, than free.”

  He couldn’t argue with that logic. “Has anyone found out how they escaped in the first place?” “One of them had a knife. Must have had it concealed in his boot.”

  “I told you to take their boots away,” Cal said. “No one can run far in their bare feet.”

  Luc glanced back at her wondering why Reggie didn’t see the difference in her. “I don’t do things that way,” Luc said. At least he had the horses back and the rifles. The mission wasn’t a total loss.

  “How’s the kid?” Reggie gestured at Cal.

  “I’m fine.” Cal flipped back the blanket and tried to stand. “I was just leaving.”

  “No, you’re not.” Luc pushed her down. His conscience screamed for him to reveal the truth. “We’re going to have a little talk about what your duties are.”

  Cal swayed and gripped the tent post to steady herself. “I didn’t do nothing wrong.”

  He could quote chapter and verse with what the little minx had done wrong. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger. You’re a scout, not a soldier.”

  Cal glared at him defiantly. “I wasn’t going to let that scum escape.”

  Reggie grinned. “Luc, I think I’ll let you hammer this out with the boy.” He closed the flap and Luc heard his footsteps as he walked away.

  When they were alone again, Luc asked, “Is Cal your real name?”

  “It’s Callie. Callisto.”

  “Callisto, the she-bear. That’s an appropriate name. You fight like an old injured grizzly.”

  Callie grinned. “Are you going to let me stay? I can take of myself.” She reached into her boot and pulled out a wicked looking knife.

  Right now, until he returned to the fort, he couldn’t reveal she was a woman. Not with a group of men around. “For the moment, you have me over a barrel. But when we arrive back at Fort Duncan, I’ll have to rethink your situation.”

  “You don’t have to think anything. I’m staying. I’ve proven myself.”

  “I know, Cal, but you’re still a woman.”

  Her voice was hard, but her eyes pleaded with him. “No one has to know.”

  She had proven herself several times over, but how could Luc expect to maintain any order with a beautiful woman on the trail with a bunch of men. She wouldn’t be safe from them no matter how well she could take care of herself. He look at her soft, full mouth. Her lips were so kissable. Oh hell, he wasn’t sure if she would be safe from him with lips so made for passion. “There’s considerations about being a woman that you need to deal with.”

  “Nothing I haven’t dealt with on the trail before.”

  What was he going to do with her. Now was not the time to make a decision. He had to get her back to the Fort and then decide. “You have a reprieve until we get back.” He tunneled both his hands through his hair. He had to get away from her silky brown eyes staring at him like a wounded puppy. “If you’re feeling well enough, you should get back to your own bedroll.”

  She grinned at him, a saucy come-on grin that he was sure she wasn’t even aware of. He wanted to kiss her. Kiss her in a way he sensed she’d never been kissed before. He resisted the urge. He could almost feel the eyes of the soldiers on them and knew they were silhouetted against the canvas by his lamp.

  She swung her legs over the side of the cot and pushed herself to her feet. For a moment she swayed unsteadily, but brought herself under control. She limped out of the tent and into the black night.

  Luc let out his breath. The memory of his bath in the pool the night before burned through his mind. He had whipped off his clothes in front of her without once thinking about her. A hot flush crept up his neck. Suddenly, he was embarrassed that she’d seen him naked. And he wondered why he was embarrassed. Other women had seen him without his clothes.

  But something about Cal, Callie, Callisto was different. Different in a way that intrigued him beyond measure. Women in his experience had certain roles, but Callie wanted to reach beyond her role, to accomplish something different. In a distant way, she reminded Luc of Esme who was always chafing at the boundaries society wanted to put on her. Like Esme, Callie was pushing at those boundaries. But then again, the West was a different place from Paris. If women weren’t strong, they died.

  Despite her strength, Callie had an aura of innocence. An innocence born of her lack of understanding about men. When Luc was around women, whether they were the daughters of his friends or grandmothers, he always treated them a certain way. He was more charming, more chivalrous, more on his best behavior. But he had treated Cal like a man, like the man Luc thought she was. He’d used no charm, he was blunt to the point, and he was hard on her. An attraction for her had still blossomed despite his treatment. His body had known what his mind had not.

  With the exception of Esme, he’d never thought of women as his equal. They were something to be protected, cared for and shielded from the ugliness of the world. Cal had never been shielded from anything and she’d thrived. She knew a side of life not even he had experienced.

  He lay down on his cot and extinguished the lamp. Did he have the right to take away her dream? To destroy her? She was running toward everything he wanted to escape. She wanted a home, a family, stability. He lived the life of a nomad to evade his past, his heritage, his father. He should feel contempt for her, but he couldn’t. She had a dream. What did he have? Compared to her, he was a poor man indeed.

  Revealing who she was would solve nothing. Her courage in the face of battle made him admire her. The other men admired her to. Maybe he could help her find her dreams. Other women had passed as men. He’d heard of wom
en fighting side by side with their men during the war, hiding their sex the way he hid heritage.

  Luc didn’t think any of the men even began to guess that she wasn’t who she said she was. If he could bury his heritage, she could hide her sex. And he’d help her.

  Oh God! He was being gallant and noble. All those qualities he thought he’d abandoned when he’d left Paris to fight the war. He chuckled and then broke into loud laughter. What strange and bizarre twists his life had taken. From the illegitimate pampered son of a Louisiana plantation owner, to a carefree young dandy in Paris, to a battle-weary soldier fighting against everything he’d been raised to respect. Now he was the keeper of secrets. How very, very strange. Life was so full of surprises.

  He drifted off to sleep, but before he did he saw Callisto in his mind, her curls surrounding her delicate face like a glossy black halo, her golden brown skin as soft as silk, and cinnamon-brown eyes alight with mischief. In his daydream, she wore a red dress – a deep burgundy red – with her shoulders bare in the lamplight and her eyes bright and saucy. She would look magnificent with fire-red rubies resting against her dark skin. If given the chance, he suspected Callisto could be quite the seductress. But he would never know. Pity, he’d decided to do the honorable thing.

  Chapter Six

  From deep in the underbrush Rafe watched the hollowed out log rotting on the ground near a cold stream. No one was around, but caution born of years of training keep him hidden even though he knew no one was around.

  Finally, as the sun slipped down behind the horizon throwing the clearing into deep shadows, he made his move, approaching the log with extreme care. He couldn’t take any chances the Fort was only a few miles away and he was a deserter. Some would say a traitor for fighting with the Comanche. If the Army found him, he would probably be shot for desertion. At the very least, he would spend a lot of time in jail.

  He didn’t feel like a traitor at least not any more. He’d felt like a Judas when he’d been with the Buffalo Soldiers killing other Indians. He kept picturing his mother and his sister in their peaceful village. He convinced himself he’d made the right decision. He was protecting them and his adopted people, his wife and son. For a price.