by Gina Danna
But she wanted to kiss Jack.
No, what he did was take advantage of the situation. How vulgar of him! Why did she crave more?
“Is something wrong, Emma?”
Conflicting thoughts clouded her mind, and she didn’t realize she was already in front of Billy. Politely dismissing his concern, she said, “No, no, nothing is wrong.”
Billy’s head lowered slightly for her. “Kiss me, or pay a higher price forfeit.”
Emma was curious about what the higher price might be, but, after Jack’s advances, she ignored it. Composing herself, she met Billy’s lips part way.
He didn’t play with her lips nor press to enter her mouth. In a very gentlemanly manner, he gave her a quick kiss and bowed away. No fire came from his lips as it had from Jack’s. If anything, she was gravely disappointed that Billy hadn’t tried to kiss her like Jack had. She should have been glad, but she wasn’t.
Like a good girl, she placed her hand on his sleeve and let him escort her back to the others. Caroline enticed them all to start charades. Jack was with them, a devilish grin on his face that Emma had the sudden urge to slap. When his glance fell her way, excitement raced through her veins, and she had the strangest sensation her nipples were tightening. Tamping down the fury of emotions Jack caused, she spent the rest of the evening at Billy’s and Caroline’s side and away from Jack.
#
For the rest of the week, Jack spent a great deal of time with Charles hunting, fishing, horseracing and flirting with Caroline, who always appeared at the most opportune moment without Emma. Jack noticed Emma’s absence from many of their amusements, and he was disappointed. He simply refused to believe she was purposely avoiding him. That kiss had lit a fire inside him. But without Emma there, Caroline had all of his attention. As sweet and demanding as he remembered, at least she liked him enough to be with him, and, after four years among only males, the company of the fairer sex was most enjoyable.
He knew his and Charles’ assignments would arrive before long, ending their time with the ladies. A couple of weeks later, when a rider appeared at the house, Jack and Charles recognized his uniform and realized their freedom was over.
“Well, my friend, I do believe our furlough has just ended,” Charles muttered.
The rider jumped off his mount and climbed the stairs to the porch, handing them the missive from his pouch. With a salute, he jumped back on his mount and left.
Charles broke the seal. “To Jefferson Barracks, 6th Infantry.”
Jack took the orders. “Report to General Harney by July 30th.” With a heavy sigh, he slumped onto the cast iron bench. “And I’m to go to Texas. Mounted Rifles.”
Charles folded up the message and looked at Jack. “I’ll go tell mother we’ll need to leave tomorrow.”
Jack nodded. With a weary snort, he stood up. It was time to move on and take up his position in life. Thankfully, his father’s determination to have him assigned to Jackson’s Barracks in New Orleans and home had failed. His lips curved up as he leaned against a pillar and gave a low chuckle. Old man Fontaine outfoxed by his own determination.
Pushing off from the column, Jack strode to the barn. He needed, no, wanted to ride. To enjoy his last day as a free man. He saddled Windswept and leaped onto the stallion’s back. The horse snorted approval at the change in his routine and stomped his way out of the barn.
Jack headed him off at a gallop to the grove of trees near the pond where he had first met Emma that fateful day. He hadn’t seen her much lately, and she wasn’t in the mansion so he wondered whether she was out there.
Directing his mount toward the running stream, Jack caught a flicker of white among the trees. A grin spread across his face. Surely that had to be Angel. Emma was close.
“Whoa, boy,” he said as he sat back in the saddle, gently flipping his wrist down to control the horse. Throwing his leg over the saddle horn, he leaped to the ground, dropping the reins. Ahead of him, he found Emma in the shade on the edge of the deck though, this time, she hadn’t taken off her shoes. She just sat quietly.
“Emma.”
“Mr. Fontaine.” Her voice was flat. She must have seen him coming.
“Don’t you think we might be beyond proper names?”
She wouldn’t look at him but dangled her booted foot above the waterline. “I suppose after you virtually ravished me there in front of everyone…”
“Ravished you? It was a kiss, Emma, and you liked it as well.”
“Yes, but it was my first time, unlike you, who’ve probably sampled many women’s kisses.” He watched her face flush as she spoke the words.
“You make me sound like rogue,” he commented with a chuckle. “I rode out here to let off…” some steam. But he left that unsaid.
She turned with a slight smile. “Did you ride out here to apologize or to try to take it beyond a kiss?”
He stepped forward. “Would you like me to?” The words were whispered, hopeful. Heaven knew his body craved more. He could feel himself tensing under her gaze.
She shook her head. “You’ll be leaving soon, and I wouldn’t dare threaten dear Caroline’s chances.”
“Actually, our orders just arrived,” he stated as blandly as he could. He was aroused, although he knew it was for naught. “We’ll leave for St. Louis on the morrow.”
“Poor Caroline. You’ll leave her here with me, won’t you?”
“I’m not asking for her hand in marriage now, no,” he answered. “I need to get the lay of the land in the Army, and being encumbered with a wife isn’t the way I want to do it.”
She shrugged indifferently.
He took another step closer, as though she was a doe poised for flight. And he had noticed her looking at her horse, which was behind him.
“Emma, I’d like you to write to me,” he almost pleaded, sounding like a fool. Perhaps he was.
“Jack, really, why?”
He took one more step. She was within arm’s reach. “Being in the company of only men, I find a letter from home soothes the soul.”
Her nose crinkled as she thought about it. “Fine, I’ll respond to every letter you send me.”
He laughed openly. Behind him, he heard his horse nicker. “I’ll write. You just make sure you are taking care of the posts, not Caroline.”
He watched her exquisite neck as she swallowed, nodding agreement as she quickly moved beyond his reach. He laughed and followed her to her horse. He lifted her easily and placed her sidesaddle. She gave him a quick smile and nudged her horse on.
He stood there and watched her gracefully ride away. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that Caroline never gave Emma his letter, and she had kept the letter Emma had written to him. Because of Caroline’s interference, each thought the other had chosen not to respond.
Cursing under his breath, Jack approached Windswept, picking up the reins and jumping onto the saddle. It was time he told Caroline the news. Ah, sweet Caroline, he mused. She was charming, petite and pretty but he wasn’t getting married now. Not till he knew what frontier life was like. For Caroline’s sake, he couldn’t just take her away from civilization. And what of Emma? He shook his head. What was he thinking? For now, he would remain an unmarried soldier.
Squeezing his knees, Jack reined his horse back to the house. He knew the message he had for Caroline would not be well received.
I claim not to have controlled events, but
Confess plainly that events have controlled me.
—Abraham Lincoln, 1864
Chapter Six
Lieutenant Jack Fontaine rode out the next morning, beginning the long trip to Texas. The route was of his own making. He’d follow Charles to Louisville, then go on to St. Louis and Jefferson Barracks.
The November air felt cool and crisp. Windswept stomped his hooves, but Jack wouldn’t turn around. His gloved hand gripped the reins as he tried to dampen the feeling of loss threatening to overtake him.
General Harney would not all
ow him to take his horse, claiming the animal was unfit for rough, dry Texas. That had been his first disappointment. The next one came as a delay to his departure because of a yellow fever epidemic in New Orleans. The week-long postponement had grated on his nerves. His alternate transportation would take him right past Bellefountaine—the empire of Jean Pierre Fontaine, his father. The longer it took to get past the tyrant’s location, the more it ate at Jack’s sanity. He would have ridden horseback to the Texas wasteland and his assignment just to bypass his home, but it would have been against orders. Regulations. Damn!
Jack finally turned to his trusted companion and pulled an apple out of his pocket. Windswept took the fruit, slobbering as he munched on it. Jack stroked the horse’s neck, trying to stanch his sadness.
“Jack.” A hand clapped down on his shoulder.
“Charles, come to see me off? I feel honored,” he joked before they both broke into laughter.
“Ah, yes, to sail down the Mighty Mississippi,” Charles sighed. “It’ll bring you closer to N’Orleans.”
Jack shifted. Yes, the river would take him to the Gulf and then to Galveston, Texas. If he could just find a way to avoid the banks of his father’s plantation, he’d feel better. It was the last place he wanted to see.
“You see that pretty sister of yours, you tell her ol’ Charles wishes her well,” his friend chuckled.
Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he focused on Charles. At their graduation, Jack’s mother, sister and brother were in attendance, his father thankfully absent. But the introduction of Charles to his sister had been, well, brief. For him to remember her now…“My sister, you say?”
“Well, you’ll be down about there,” Charles shuffled.
“Yes, and I be prayin’ we’ve no reason to stop.” His voice was harsh. “I don’t plan on visitin’ Bellefountaine anytime soon.”
Charles frowned. “I don’t get you, Jack. You’ve barely seen your folk in the last four years. You never talk about home or…”
“Nor do I intend to. Charles, just drop the subject.”
His friend’s eyebrows rose, but he kept quiet. Good, Jack thought. He hoped the old man had no knowledge of where he was going, but Jack didn’t think he’d be that lucky. Old bastard…
“…doubt there’ll be much for ya’ there.”
Jack’s mind snapped back. What was Charles talking about? “Whatever are you babblin’ on about?”
“Women!”
Only Charles would measure an assignment using the availability of the fairer sex as his guide.
“I just said I doubt you’ll have any pretty ones in ole Texas! Nothing but Mexicans and savages. And I’ll be here, with all the lovelies,” he patted his chest, smiling smugly.
Jack rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be fine, but thanks for the concern.”
“How many pretties did you get to write to you, Jack?”
He smirked. “A few.”
“My sisters too?”
“Charles,” he warned.
“Oh, I don’t be doubtin’ ya’, not at all. You know Caroline’ll be writing,” her brother laughed. “But little Miss Em? Uh oh! You sly fox!”
Jack turned again to Windswept, patting his muzzle. “Charles, leave me be.”
Charles’ laughter rang loud, and Jack couldn’t help but join him. He’d miss the Virginian.
The whistle from the steamer blew as the boat approached the dock below. Its shrill tinny sound quieted the two friends. Looking at the paddle wheeler, Jack sighed, and he stroked Windswept one more time. The horse lowered his head as Jack pulled him closer to whisper into the animal’s ear.
“What you be tellin’ my new mount?” Charles queried. Did Jack hear tension in his friend’s voice?
He laughed and tossed Charles the reins.
“Just told him goodbye,” he said as he shoved on his hat and picked up his bag and rifle. With a nod to Charles, he went down the path that would ultimately lead him to Texas.
#
Jack’s luck had held after all. The paddle wheeler went past his father’s plantation and onto New Orleans without stopping. From there, he took another boat to Galveston. Reaching his destination, Jack didn’t find it at all appealing. It was a dry dirt town, its only amenity an elaborate billiard hall and saloon adjacent to the Tremont House. His mood lifted upon finding his old cadet mate and friend, “Beauty” Stuart, seated at a table, flirting with the ladies.
“They’ll let just anyone into these places, huh?” Jack nudged the Virginian.
“Fontaine! Great to see ya’ here,” Stuart exclaimed, removing his plumed hat from a chair. “Off for the Rifles, heh?”
Jack took the shot of whiskey Stuart offered and downed it, enjoying the burn of the alcohol after the numbness of traveling for days. “Yessur.”
“Good, good,” Stuart abruptly stood. “Let’s be getting a move on. We’ve got to git you a mount, boy. The Rifles are a ride, to be sure.”
“Really? Where we goin’?”
“Heard they’re about four hundred and fifty miles west of Laredo, in Indian country.” The Virginian’s mouth broke into a broad smile.
Jack laughed. He was beginning to feel at home already.
#
With a deep breath, Emma fought to keep from throwing the needlework into the fireplace. Dratted design. Tatting handkerchiefs was the last thing she wanted to do today. She’d rather be out riding, but in the last few months, her mother had kept her busy, “learning how to be the mistress of the house.” Posh! Pulling the needle through the linen, she found the thread to hook and yank out…
“Emma, be careful,” her mother scolded as she peered over her shoulder. “If you take too much, it will pucker.”
Caroline’s snickering drifted to Emma, and Margaret Silvers frowned at her.
“Now, Caroline,” her mother admonished. “It took you a time or two to accomplish this. It is Emma’s first time…”
“She’ll never get it,” Caroline stated.
Emma glared at her.
“Caroline Ann,” her mother’s stern voice stopped Caroline’s giggle.
Emma didn’t give a hoot about a handkerchief with fancy holes in it. But she bent her head over the cloth again and looked for a thread. Losing her count, she glanced up. Her mother was talking to Sally, and her sister sat on the edge of her seat, working diligently. Wasn’t that a joke?
With a sigh, Emma put down the linen and stretched her fingers, giving her a chance to look at the clock. It was almost four. Where was Mathias with their post? She’d swear…
Her hand went to her mouth. She hadn’t uttered a sound but feared she might. A glance at the window showed how pretty it was outside, and being cooped up in this parlor with handwork was driving her mad. Oh, where was Mathias? She hoped there was mail for her.
Jack Fontaine. She swore she wouldn’t fall under his spell. He was only after Caroline. But he had written her two weeks ago, telling her of his trip to Texas. He’d described the rolling lands of Tennessee, the big river city, St. Louis and Jefferson Barracks where Charles was—with Jack’s horse, he complained—and then the riverboat trip south. It sounded so exciting. Things she’d never see…particularly when her role was to tat linen cloths.
“Ma’am,” the low voice of Mathias came from the doorway.
Caroline’s head popped up from her needlework at the same time Emma’s did.
“Good boy.” Margaret took the bound letters from him. “Why don’t you go see Merry, tell her to give you a biscuit?”
“Yessum,” the boy said as he scurried out of the room as fast as his bare feet would take him.
Emma started to rise but stopped as her mother looked at the floor where the slave boy had been standing.
“Now, you see here, Sally, that boy brought in all that—”
“Momma,” Caroline interrupted. Emma stifled the hysterical laugh forming because of her sister’s impatience.
Margaret Silvers’ hazel-colored eyes narrowed on h
er two daughters as she inhaled, as though to take in more air to give her voice volume. “Caroline, there’s no need to be rude.”
Caroline’s mouth twisted, and she stomped her foot on the floor. “You was only talkin’ to Sally, momma.”
“Still…”
Emma slowly stood, reluctantly backing her sister’s stand. This was one of the few times she’d side with her because she, too, wanted to know whether she had mail.
Her mother’s lips thinned. “You two will sit and return to your needlework until I am ready to go through the mail.”
Emma slumped down onto the settee and picked up her project. She heard Caroline harrumph loudly, plopping onto her chair, the cotton of her dress and petticoats crushing loudly against the satin-covered seat.
“I don’t know what you’re hoping for,” Caroline muttered to her sister.
Emma’s nerves were too wound up for her to sit calmly as Caroline began talking about Jack Fontaine marrying her. But despite Emma’s resolve to remain quiet, she snarled, “A letter. What else would I be lookin’ for?”
Caroline replied viciously, “You really don’t think my darlin’ Jack will be writin’ to you? Heavens, when he was here, you said barely a word to him. In fact, you were downright rude, avoidin’ him and such.”
Emma swallowed the knot forming in her throat. Caroline was right. She had avoided him after that kiss. But that was only for self-protection. If Caroline wanted him, Emma knew she didn’t stand a chance.
“Girls,” their mother interrupted. Margaret pulled the ribbon holding the letters as she began to rifle through them. “Caroline,” she said, handing a letter to her. “And Emma.”
Emma took the envelope from her mother and quickly opened it.
Dear Miss Emma, I write in hopes that you are in good health, the scrawled handwriting stated. With a quick glance down, her heart fluttered at the signature, Your good & obedient servant, Jack Fontaine, Lieutenant, U. S. Mounted Rifles.
