The Unlikely Wife

by Cassandra Austin

  “Ma’am?”

  Rebecca blinked. Lord, she’d been staring. For a second she forgot what she had come to say.

  He spoke again. “I hope I didn’t worry you and the other ladies with my message last night. I merely wanted to take every precaution for your safety.”

  “Message?” The only message she remembered was the one canceling their chess game. Then she recalled his warning to stay in camp. “No.” She shook her head, hoping to clear it. She had to get this over with. “It’s about my cousin. And our driver.”

  One eyebrow shot up, and she felt herself start to smile. “Yes, it’s Alicia this time instead of me.”

  “What has happened?”

  His expression was back to its usual unreadable calm. He could be sympathizing or condemning; she had no way of knowing. She told herself it didn’t matter. “Would it be possible to assign us another driver?”

  “Of course. But I need to know why.”

  “He and Alicia have become…too friendly.”

  “And that bothers you?”

  Did she detect the barest note of sarcasm in his voice? She half turned and stepped away from him, her eyes studying the cloudless sky. “I recognize the irony of the situation. But I have reason to be leery of Brooks.”

  He moved to stand in front of her. There was a hint of concern in his voice as he asked, “What reason?”

  “Never mind,” she began, finding herself gazing into his gray eyes again. “The point is Alicia doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

  He spoke just above a whisper. “Are you jealous?”

  Rebecca sighed, swallowing the humiliation. “Look, I know this is my fault. I’m trying to take responsibility for my actions. I’ll talk to Alicia, but I would like to have Brooks farther away from her. Would you arrange that, Lieutenant?”

  He nodded. “Sergeant Whiting will be along in a few minutes, and I’ll tell him to make the appropriate reassignments.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, turning quickly away.

  She felt the barest touch on her arm. “Rebecca?”

  Even before she turned back, his arm had dropped to his side.

  “I didn’t want to cancel our game last night. I wonder if we could reschedule for this evening.”

  No. That would be foolish. That would be crazy! She opened her mouth to refuse when she caught a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. It startled her into agreeing.

  As she headed toward the ambulance, she considered what she had done. In her heart she had wanted to see him again. She had been willing to imagine anything in order to give in. Still, he had asked her. The night before hadn’t been the rejection she had imagined.

  Unless he was feeling guilty about it. Or thought that was the real reason she had come.

  She had never been so confused by a man in her life. She had half a mind to turn around and ask him. “Just what do you mean by dumping me one day and encouraging me the next?” she would ask. “If you are determined to resist my charms why make me want to use them?”

  Rebecca stopped suddenly, catching a gasp with her fingertips. She had turned around! Or wandered in a circle like some poor soul lost in a blizzard. But now that she was here, she couldn’t pull herself away.

  His back was bare except for the towel slung across his left shoulder. He leaned toward the mirror, brushed lather on his face, and began to shave. Rebecca watched every flex of his muscles, every efficient motion of his hands. He was halfway through the process when the approach of another soldier brought his head up, and Rebecca’s as well.

  “Good morning, Sergeant,” Clark said, and Rebecca turned and hurried back to the ambulance.

  Rebecca spent the morning trying to sort out her feelings. By noon she realized she could no longer deny that she was in love with Clark. She had been so certain that love was simply romantic foolishness. She had found the perfect alternative: enjoy a man’s attention, then move on to another. But she couldn’t imagine flirting with another man now. She toyed with the idea of blaming him for ruining her life, but she had a feeling he had saved it instead.

  During the noon stop, Rebecca decided she would ride with Clark and the sergeant. Aunt Belle, choosing to continue in her dresses, kept herself hidden away in the wagon, and Alicia, when she was out where Rebecca might have talked to her, sulked beside the new driver. She saw no reason to remain alongside the ambulance and much to tempt her to the front of the line.

  The familiar creak of leather and jingle of harnesses was almost hypnotic. Clark suppressed a sigh. Another long day’s march with the June sun giving them a taste of what August would be like. It would take three more days to reach Fort Hays. There would be three more evenings to spend with Rebecca before the social life of the fort sent her in pursuit of someone else. He wondered if he could keep her attention for that long. He marveled that he even wanted to, knowing how quickly she would forget him. Instead of admitting that he was better off losing her sooner than later, he felt compelled to spend every possible moment with her, no matter how few.

  He found himself wishing for an emergency that would allow his military training to return his familiar control. To have all thought of Rebecca Huntington banished from his mind sounded liberating.

  “Miss Huntington.”

  The sergeant’s greeting brought Clark’s head around. An emergency all right, just the wrong kind.

  Whiting tipped his hat to the young woman as she rode up beside him. “Glad to have your company, ma’am.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Whiting,” she said, flashing him a smile.

  She hadn’t spared a glance at Clark. But then, the sergeant rode between them. Spending the afternoon listening to her flirt with Whiting was going to be worse than missing her.

  “Ma’am, if you don’t mind,” Whiting said, “I’d like you to ride between us. Not meaning to frighten you or anything, but I’d be more comfortable knowing you had that little bit of protection.”

  He drew his horse around, and they quickly traded places. Clark wasn’t sure if Whiting was really being chivalrous or if he was playing matchmaker. He didn’t care. She was right where he wanted her. He gave her a polite smile but wondered if his eyes hadn’t betrayed his pleasure. Her grin looked almost wicked.

  “I trust the new driver is acceptable,” he said, hoping to distract her from whatever flirtatious thoughts were circling in her head.

  She turned serious immediately. “Yes. Thank you.”

  The deep concern in her eyes was at least as compelling as a dimpled grin.

  “What did you learn at the fort last night?” she asked.

  “I did worry you, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “I’d rather be a little worried and safe than ignorant of the danger. What did you learn?”

  Clark considered how much he should tell her. She wouldn’t settle for a few generalities; the determination in her eyes told him that. Still, she was a woman.

  “Every available soldier is out searching for the hostiles.”

  “And they haven’t so much as seen them, have they?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “No, ma’am.”

  A curl blew across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear. “So the Cheyenne continue to raid. But what can anyone expect? Hancock burned their homes.”

  “It’s not only the Cheyenne who are raiding.”

  She looked at him sharply, and he wondered why he was telling her this. Was he so desperate to keep her attention? Or did those trusting eyes simply demand the truth? “Kiowa. Even some Sioux.”

  “Raiding in sympathy?”

  Clark shook his head. “Perhaps. More likely they’ve just found the excuse they’ve been waiting for.”

  “But with so many soldiers on patrol wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

  “It hasn’t been so far.”

  She studied him thoughtfully as she said, “You don’t think the troops will be successful?”

  He hesitated a moment before answering
softly, “I think the hostiles will watch the soldiers and wait for them to make a mistake. They’ll attack only if they know they can win. They will continue raiding and avoiding the army until winter. Then they’ll hole up somewhere until spring when it’ll start all over again.”

  “What would you do?” It was almost a whisper.

  “I’ll follow orders.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  He watched her search his eyes for a moment before he spoke. “What I would do, is immaterial.”

  “That’s silly.”

  Clark couldn’t resist a mirthless laugh. “I’m afraid the opposite is true. It’s silly to devise a plan I have no power to carry out”

  She was still eyeing him speculatively as if she read more on his face than he thought he had given away. “You have an opinion,” she said.

  He shook his head and knew she didn’t believe him. “You have one, I would imagine. How would you approach the situation?”

  She looked slightly irked to have the tables turned on her. He watched her chew her lip as she considered how to answer. It was moist and pink when she released it. He had to turn away for fear he would be so fascinated by the sight that he wouldn’t hear what she said. He didn’t want to be accused a second time of not respecting her.

  “The Indians have been wronged,” she began. “Their homes should be replaced.”

  “And their depredations forgiven?” He turned back toward her. She was beautiful. Her cheeks and lips seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her eyes, shaded by the hat, seemed dark with mystery.

  “This is war, Lieutenant. When it ends the soldiers are usually forgiven.”

  “And sometimes the losing generals are hanged.” He immediately wished he hadn’t said it. But he had, and he couldn’t turn away. “Besides,” he added softly, “I don’t believe the settlers and railroad workers knew they were at war.”

  After a long moment she whispered, “Maybe they should hang Hancock.”

  The comment startled a laugh out of him. “Forgive me, ma’am, but being an officer myself I don’t believe I’d like the precedent.”

  “I’m serious, Clark. If the government had hanged Chivington after Sand Creek, none of this would be happening now.”

  “That’s a bit of a leap.”

  She shook her head and turned away.

  Clark let his eyes scan the horizon. It was easy to get caught up in conversation with Rebecca and forget the immediate danger. What he had learned at the fort and not told her included raids within a few miles of the trail they followed now.

  “If you’ll excuse me, ma’am,” Whiting said. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the lieutenant here, and I gotta say giving these renegades their homes back wouldn’t stop the raids.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Clark felt his jaw muscles tighten when she turned toward the sergeant. It was one thing for him to disagree with her. It was quite another for someone else to. He felt an irrational desire to defend her argument.

  “Well,” Whiting said, “we gotta have a few victories, inflict a little pain. See, they’d rather be raiding than living peacefully in the first place. They got no real incentive to quit.”

  “I can’t believe that.”

  Whiting responded kindly, “No, ma’am, I don’t suppose you can.”

  Clark wanted to see Rebecca’s reaction to her exchange with the sergeant, but she didn’t turn back in his direction for some time. When she did, her usual good nature had returned. They rode in contemplative silence for most of the afternoon. What little conversation they shared concerned trivial matters. Clark found the situation surprisingly comfortable. Odd to discover now that he liked the girl.

  When it was getting close to time to make camp, Rebecca cast Clark a teasing smile and asked Whiting if he had heard about the chess game of two nights before.

  “It’s common knowledge around camp, ma’am,” he answered. “You beat our lieutenant here. I’m proud of you, but not all the fellas feel the same.”

  She glanced at Clark again, this time her eyes were full of dismay. Evidently she didn’t realize the sergeant was teasing.

  “There’s a rematch scheduled for this evening,” Clark said, bringing her attention back to him. “I will attempt to exonerate myself.” He gave her a smile and watched her relax.

  “I’m glad to hear that, sir,” Whiting said. “I’m afraid most of the boys feel the honor of all men is at stake.”

  “I’ll have to keep my wits about me,” Clark added softly.

  Rebecca was frustrated by even the slightest delay that evening. It wasn’t that she hated to keep a man waiting; that had never seemed like a bad strategy. She was simply impatient to be with Clark again as soon as possible.

  While Aunt Belle was not happy to learn of her plans for the evening, Alicia seemed positively livid. She expressed her resentment by refusing to speak to Rebecca at all. Rebecca could hardly blame her. Alicia wanted to spend time with Brooks the way Rebecca would with Clark. There was a world of difference between the two men, but Rebecca didn’t know how to explain that to her cousin. Besides, Alicia was in no mood to listen to anything right now.

  Finally, after a tense meal served by strangers, Rebecca made her way to the lieutenant’s tent Powers was waiting outside to usher her in. “Lieutenant Forrester, your guest is here,” he said, as if the tent were some huge hall in which her arrival might pass unnoticed.

  Clark closed a journal and stood, indicating the chair across from him with the an outstretched hand. The chess game was already arranged on the camp desk.

  “Can I get you some coffee, ma’am?” Powers asked.

  “No, thank you.” Rebecca smiled at Powers as she sank into the chair, then turned her attention to Clark. He spared Powers a glance as he resumed his seat, checking perhaps to see that the man didn’t leave.

  “I believe it’s your turn to play first,” she said.

  Clark nodded. “I don’t suppose it would be wise for me to turn down even the slightest advantage.”

  They each played several turns in near silence, positioning their pieces for their own strategies. Rebecca knew that she had won so handily before because she had managed to keep Clark distracted. She was going to have to work harder at it tonight

  “Clark,” she said after making a particularly careful move. “Would you call yourself a Galvanized Yankee?”

  An eyebrow quirked up at the question. She was delighted.

  “I don’t,” he said. “But some folks back home do, I suppose.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Clark studied the board for a moment, then evidently decided not to risk a move at the moment. “I was just out of West Point when the war began. I was a second lieutenant in the United States Army. I had no intention of fighting against my own country. But I didn’t want to fight against my own state, my own neighbors, either. I requested service in the West.

  “Since I wear the blue uniform, I’m not especially welcome back home. Any southerner who fought for the north might be called a Galvanized Yankee, among other things. Out here it usually refers to the Confederate soldiers who were recruited into the army of the West from the northern prisons.”

  She was delighted to learn some of his history, but he wasn’t playing. “So you came west about the time I was sent east,” she said, smiling. “It seems we just missed each other.”

  “I assure you, Miss Huntington,” his voice dropped to a seductive murmur, “if I had so much as passed by you on my trip west, I would remember.”

  Oh, my. Now who was distracting whom? While she sat staring at him, he had the audacity to lower his eyes to the board. She tried to do the same. She couldn’t make sense of her own pieces, let alone his. Hadn’t she had a plan? Hadn’t she thought a few minutes ago that she knew his?

  Maybe he was playing two games. She had to get the upper hand in at least one of them. Chess was safer. But less interesting.

  She leaned slightly
toward the bent head. “What a romantic thought, Lieutenant,” she said just above a whisper. “The young soldier’s glimpse of a beautiful woman sustains him through six arduous years on the plains.”

  He raised his head, their faces mere inches apart. “It didn’t happen. Sorry.” He drew a little closer, and her breath caught in her throat. He whispered, “Your play.”

  Rebecca sat back and laughed. She tried to concentrate on the board, but her eyes kept wandering back to his face. He wore his usual placid expression except his eyes fairly danced. He had enjoyed teasing her. Perhaps her best bet was to turn him serious again. But first she would play.

  She studied the board and discovered he had put her queen in danger. She used it to jump his offending knight and started a veritable bloodbath. First he jumped her queen. Then her half-finished strategy fell apart as she took every opportunity to decimate his ranks. He responded in kind at nearly every turn.

  Just as quickly it was over. Rebecca looked down at the few pieces scattered across the board. The kings, of course, had been protected but not much else. “What wanton destruction,” she muttered.

  He laughed, and she looked up quickly to see his face, glad she hadn’t missed what she suspected was a rare display of pleasure.

  “You could concede now,” he said. “I see no way you can win.”

  “I see no way you can win, either,” she retorted.

  “Ah, but I have both a bishop and a castle. I can corner your king.”

  “But I have my castle to stave off your pieces and two pawns. I could get my queen back.”

  He shook his head. “They’d never make it all the way down here.”

  “We could call it a stalemate.”

  He opened his mouth as if to disagree, then laughed again. Rebecca loved the sound. She vowed to make him laugh as often as possible.

  “Stalemate it is,” he said graciously. He came to his feet and offered her his hand as she rose. “Would you consent to a game again tomorrow night? I hold out hope of winning at least once.”

  Rebecca stood beside him, surprised but pleased that he hadn’t released her hand. “Perhaps we should switch to poker,” she suggested and smiled when his eyebrow shot upward.