“You knew she got married shortly after you went East?”
Clark shook his head briefly. He hadn’t known, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. She hadn’t indicated an aversion to marriage, only marriage to a soldier. He felt again a pang of disappointment knowing he would never see her again, but it was more from the loss of something familiar than any deep sorrow.
Whiting brought him out of his reverie. “Now that was one boring love affair, sir. I’d have—”
“Sergeant Whiting.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Shut up. And that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clark could see Whiting’s grin out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t care. As long as the conversation ended before Whiting found a way to bring it back to speculation about Rebecca Huntington.
The lieutenant sent me back to ask after you and the ladies. The lieutenant…The lieutenant…
Rebecca tried to shake off the sergeant’s statement that kept repeating itself in her mind. She shouldn’t be delighted that the lieutenant was thinking of her. She was supposed to be forgetting about him. It was just that she kept forgetting that.
Riding near Aunt Belle didn’t help anything either. The woman was skilled in every style of complaining; normal conversation was lost on her. Alicia might have been fun, but what could they talk about within earshot of Aunt Belle and Brooks? Trees?
Incredibly enough that was exactly what they had been discussing. She left Alicia and Brooks to carry on without her as she watched the front of the column longingly. Why was she riding back here when she could be alongside the lieutenant? Clark, she reminded herself with a smile. He had been so carefully serious last night, but he had consented to the use of their first names—reluctantly.
It would be nice to have some personal information to go with that first name. She had told him some of her childhood, but he had said next to nothing about himself. She began speculating on what approach would be most likely to gain her the information she sought, when she remembered it was over. She wouldn’t be coaxing anything out of him ever again.
She shifted in the saddle, feeling a desire to kick the gelding into a run. She had been unusually restless all day. Maybe it was the mud. She was tired of slogging through it. She was tired of watching it coat the wagon’s wheels. She was tired of hearing her aunt complain about how it had ruined her shoes this morning.
Ah, but the rain itself had been a wonderful thing. It had kept her in Clark’s tent. She shook herself. She had decided last night that that had been a mistake. She had ruined any chance of dazzling him again, and she was now determined to forget him.
But even if she couldn’t dazzle him, she could ride with him. Her horse was supposed to set her free, and here she was, as trapped as ever. She glanced at her companions. They were silent now, all staring straight ahead. She should excuse herself and ride up beside the sergeant. She might even succeed in making Clark jealous.
Darn! She had forgotten again! She didn’t want to make him jealous. It was as if part of her brain wasn’t listening to the rest and kept offering foolish suggestions. And it wasn’t because she needed an alternative to the lieutenant; she had often gone weeks without a beau.
With a sigh, she acknowledged the truth. Clark Forrester was more intriguing than most men. What she felt wasn’t just the usual attraction to a handsome face. She might actually be falling for him.
“What a disaster,” she breathed.
“What’s a disaster, dear?”
Her aunt’s voice made her jump. She hadn’t realized she had spoken aloud. “Ah, I was just thinking about…the Indian uprising.”
Aunt Belle shuddered. “I try not to think about it.”
Good, Rebecca thought, that meant there was little chance she wanted to talk about it. At the same time, she was glad for the interruption. Her thoughts had turned in another crazy direction. She wasn’t falling for Clark Forrester. And she would prove it. She would ride up ahead and talk to him and the sergeant about…why, the Indian uprising, of course.
She shifted position in the saddle in anticipation of a short gallop, but that was as far as she went. If she rode anywhere near the lieutenant she would be tempted to tease him. If he so much as spoke to her, she would be running to his tent after supper for that chess game. If he gave her the least encouragement, she’d be begging him to kiss her—probably right in front of Private Powers.
She wasn’t falling for him yet, she told herself. The problem was that she could, if she wasn’t careful.
By evening, when the troop camped a few miles beyond Fort Harker, Rebecca was so agitated even her aunt commented on it. “I imagine it’s the coffee, dear,” she said. “It’s so much stronger than the tea we’re used to. Pass it up at supper, and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
Rebecca murmured her thanks for the advice. She knew coffee had nothing to do with the way she felt, but if it kept Aunt Belle from inquiring further, she would go along.
She had made a small effort at their noon stop to locate Powers. She had thought she would pass her regrets to Clark through him. She had found herself actually glad when he hadn’t turned up immediately. Of course, she had been afraid to seek out Clark in person; she might have relented and told him she was looking forward to the rematch, instead of begging off.
But after the long afternoon, she thought she had figured out her problem. The only reason she was having trouble dismissing him was that he dismissed her so easily. She felt more certain than ever that avoiding Clark was the best policy. She would tell him herself that she would not be playing chess with him. Her mind only half registered the inconsistency of her plan.
While Brooks was setting up their camp, she went in search of Clark’s. She found his tent, recognizing it because it was slightly larger than the others, but no one was around. She questioned a soldier camped nearby and learned that the lieutenant and a few men had gone into Fort Harker.
She was irritated with herself as she walked back to the wagon. Of course he would go in and report to the post commander. He would want news of the uprising. There might even be a telegram waiting for him there.
An idea made her outlook brighten. There might be a telegram for her from Father. She could ride in and find out. While she was there, she might see Clark. More foolishness, she realized. She couldn’t interrupt the officers’ conversation even if she knew the post commander, which she didn’t think she did though he probably knew her father. And, she told herself for the millionth time, she was avoiding Clark, except to tell him she wasn’t playing chess tonight. If there was a telegram for her, Clark, of course, would see that she got it.
Her agitation had turned to depression by the time she joined her aunt at the camp table. Belle was darning a hole in a stocking, and spoke without looking up. “Where were you off to in such a hurry?”
“Nothing important. Aunt Belle,” she continued with sudden enthusiasm, “do you want to go into town?”
“No.”
“But, Aunt Belle, there may be a store—”
“I said no, Rebecca. The town is Ellsworth. I remember General Hale’s description, even if you don’t. Neither I, nor you, will set foot in that town.”
Rebecca fell silent and watched her aunt take tiny even stitches until she thought she would go mad. “Where’s Alicia?”
“She’s with that driver fellow and his companions learning how to cook over a fire. Foolishness, but it keeps her busy.”
Rebecca stared at her aunt’s profile. Alicia was out of her mother’s sight with not one but four men. And Belle thought cooking was all that was on anybody’s mind? Either she was getting used to being around the soldiers, or Alicia had made herself such a pest that Belle was glad to be rid of her. Neither seemed especially likely.
“Where are they?” Rebecca asked, hoping it sounded like a casual question. She realized with a start that she was considering joining them to make sure Alicia was all right. Was she
turning into Aunt Belle?
“Right there,” Aunt Belle said, pointing with her needle.
They were hidden from Rebecca’s view by a tent, but, she realized, not from Belle’s. She found herself relieved that things hadn’t drifted too far from the familiar.
After dinner, Rebecca mentally prepared herself to visit Clark. She would smile, explain that her aunt needed her to help with some mending, casually wish him a good-night, and leave. Leave him wanting more, she thought with a smile before she could catch herself.
Perhaps she should wait for half an hour or so. That would give him time to miss her, even wonder if she was coming. She pictured him pacing his tent, the chessboard ready and waiting. She smiled to herself, then wanted to smack her forehead. Her brain was still anticipating conquest.
The sooner she saw him the better. Her pulse even leapt at that thought. Maybe it was the coffee, she told herself.
She was about to rise from the chair when her aunt looked up, focusing on something over Rebecca’s shoulder. She turned to find Powers coming toward them.
“Ladies,” he said politely, doffing his hat.
Rebecca made the introductions. Aunt Belle, obviously not interested in meeting another soldier, returned to her sewing. Already the woman was starting to fit into the military where the officers’ families never socialized with enlisted men.
“Miss Huntington,” Powers said. “Lieutenant Forrester sent me back with a message. He’s held up at the fort for the evening.”
Rebecca stared at him as if the implications of the message were beyond her understanding.
Powers, evidently reading the confusion on her face, added, “He regrets that he will miss the chess game.”
Rebecca managed to thank him and wish him good-night.
Aunt Belle’s voice seemed to grate against raw nerves. “You had a date to play chess with the lieutenant? That’s not only inappropriate, it’s foolish. Men aren’t interested in women who play men’s games. Why your father ever taught you is beyond me.”
“Yes, Aunt Belle,” Rebecca murmured absently. Clark had broken the date. She was prepared to break it, but he had done it first. What could keep him occupied at the fort for so long? Or was that merely an excuse?
And there had been no mention of postponing the game to another night Was this a rejection? She had no experience with this sort of thing, at least not from this side. She decided she hated it! It was painful. It was humiliating. And she had done it to how many men?
She felt like the earth was about to open up and swallow her. This had been his revenge. She had manipulated her old friend until he ordered Clark to take her with him. She had held the threat of her father’s power to get her own way.
So he had charmed her. And dumped her. Only she had been more than charmed. She was on the verge of falling in love.
No, that was foolish, she told herself. She didn’t fall in love. And even if he ended the relationship before she could, it didn’t really matter. It was bound to happen someday. Besides, she could comfort herself with knowing she had been planning to end it.
Of course, he didn’t know that. He thought he was putting her in her place. He thought she would be hurt. He thought she would be humiliated. It was suddenly extremely important that she set him straight.
Powers brought one more message from Clark before the ladies retired. The lieutenant trusted the ladies would stay close to their wagon and take every precaution for their own safety once they left the protection of the fort.
Aunt Belle took that to mean that there were Indians behind every bush and announced her intention to remain inside the wagon at all times. Alicia decided on a return to pants.
Rebecca saw the message in a different light. Clark was requesting that she not ride at the head of the column with him and the sergeant. An insult, she decided, on top of his earlier injury. She went to sleep still wondering what she would do about it.
* * *
Something woke Rebecca after too brief a sleep. She lay still, trying to figure out if she had heard something or if some dream had brought her awake. She hadn’t dreamed that Clark had tapped on the ambulance and invited her out for a moonlight stroll. That notion had been conjured by her fully conscious mind.
She was obsessed. She shifted her position and muffled a groan against her pillow. She should go back to sleep before her fantasies kept her awake all night
Somehow the night seemed to hang suspended. She held her breath. It was the strangest feeling, as if the air was filled with waiting. She strained her ears for any sound that might have given her the odd impression. She could hear her aunt’s soft snoring. Somewhere a cricket chirped.
She had nearly decided her imagination was playing tricks on her, when the back flap of the wagon eased open, spilling moonlight on shiny blond hair. Rebecca watched Alicia ease out of the wagon.
With skill born of practice, Rebecca slipped noiselessly out of her blankets and followed. “Alicia,” she hissed the moment the flap had fallen back into place.
Alicia was only a few paces away. She turned, her finger coming quickly to her lips. Rebecca joined her. “You shouldn’t be out alone,” she whispered.
“I thought you were asleep.” Alicia cast a glance over her shoulder.
Until that moment, Rebecca had assumed Alicia needed to relieve herself. Now, with sudden insight, she knew Alicia was sneaking out to meet someone. “Where are you going?” she demanded in as hushed a tone as her fear would permit. It was one thing to go sneaking off herself. It was quite another to find her young cousin doing it.
“To meet Victor. You will cover for me, won’t you?”
“Victor? Who’s Victor?” Rebecca had stepped closer and took her cousin’s hand, hoping to coax Alicia back into the wagon before their conversation woke Aunt Belle.
“Victor Brooks. Our driver.”
“Brooks?” Rebecca almost choked on the word. “You can’t go off in the middle of the night and meet Brooks.”
“And why not? You’ve done this kind of thing often enough.”
Rebecca heard accusation in the whispered words. “But you have to be careful of your choice, Alicia. And Brooks…”
“Rebecca, you’re a snob.” Alicia pulled her hand out of Rebecca’s grasp. “You wouldn’t give Brooks a second thought because he’s an enlisted man. You didn’t even remember his first name.”
Rebecca shook her head, wanting to deny the accusation even as she realized there was a grain of truth in it. “Alicia,” she began, forcing her voice to remain calm. “Brooks tried to kiss me.”
“And your lieutenant didn’t?”
Rebecca sighed in exasperation. “That’s completely different.”
“How is it different? Because it’s me some man is interested in? Because your lieutenant doesn’t want to see you? I think you’re jealous.”
Rebecca took a step backward. She didn’t know what to say to refute the outlandish statement. Alicia took it as an invitation to end the conversation. With a toss of her blond hair, she spun around and hurried away.
Rebecca considered going after her, but what could she say that would mean anything right now? Perhaps she should follow and spy on the couple. She would be close by if things got out of hand. She realized the foolishness of that even as she took the first few steps in the direction her cousin had gone. What she considered out of hand and what Alicia did would likely be two different things. If Brooks actually took liberties, all Alicia had to do was scream and forty or so men would come to her rescue. On the other hand, if he so much as touched her, Rebecca would want to storm forward and drag the girl away.
With a sigh of resignation, Rebecca turned and crept back to the wagon. It wasn’t until she was curled up in her bed again that it occurred to her that this entire predicament was her fault.
Chapter Six
Early the next morning, Rebecca walked slowly through the camp. She had to do something to set things right, and she could think of only one way to do it
.
Looking back she realized that Alicia actually hadn’t been gone from the wagon for very long. At the time, however, it had seemed like hours. Had Alicia worried about her the same way when the situation was reversed?
She shook her head. The circumstances weren’t the same. Alicia knew Rebecca could take care of herself. And Rebecca knew Alicia couldn’t.
She spotted Clark’s tent ahead. He had hung the mirror on a tent post and stood before it mixing soap in a cup. His back was to her, but she easily recognized the breadth of his bare shoulders and the dark hair curling to the base of his neck.
Rebecca eased forward slowly, ignoring a soldier’s apology when he brushed against her as she passed a tent. She was going to do it again. She was going to watch Clark shave. Her stomach shivered with anticipation.
He adjusted the mirror, and she caught the glimpse of his eyes before he turned around. She stood-stock still for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might catch her.
Smiling, she tried to pull herself together. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said.
“That’s quite all right. What can I do for you, Rebecca?”
There was the barest pause before he said her name. He set the cup aside and reached for his uniform blouse. Rebecca came forward trying not to look at the broad chest that was quickly disappearing beneath the shirt.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Of course. Can I get you a chair?”
“No thanks,” she said. “This will only take a moment.”
She hoped she was right. She was feeling a need to escape before she gave in to the temptation to test the texture of a day’s worth of stubble on his cheek. This was the first time a decision to end a flirtation had resulted in the man in question becoming more attractive. Before, the man’s flaws had become more apparent In Clark’s case even his military bearing which had seemed alternately irritating and humorous now seemed endearing.
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