by Hebby Roman
Besides, if Myerson was so interested in his whereabouts, he should be the one to go without sleep after a night of celebration.
“Have Captain Myerson gather his men, Company A and G. Tell him to have his men ready to ride before daylight.”
The corporal saluted. “Right away, sir.”
“And don’t let any of the men touch the wagon or the…” He cleared his throat. “Or the bodies. I want to personally look them over first, before we make the proper arrangements. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And have Captain French wait for me in my office.” He hesitated. “Send Rodgers, too, I need to have him follow up something for me.”
Rodgers’ men hadn’t found the stranger in the days leading up to the play. Now that Mallory had seen the man again, Rodgers would need to redouble his efforts.
“Yes, sir,” the corporal said.
He returned the corporal’s salute. “Dismissed.”
The corporal trotted off, braving the steep, rocky path without hesitation.
He wanted to sprint after him, but he needed to get Mallory back safely to the Rodgers’ cabin. For a few moments, they walked in silence. He was planning what to do, and she must be considering what had happened tonight.
Then she asked, “What are you going to do?”
“Well, first, I want to look over the victims and the wagon. See if there’s anything odd or amiss or—”
“Something that might tie the attack to Mr. Murphy?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re going out to his ranch, whether you find anything or not?”
“Yes, but this time, I’ll have plenty of men. Ben won’t try anything if he’s evenly matched. He’s a coward, and cowards sneak around and…” He shook his head.
“Are you expecting him to confess?”
“No, just putting him on notice, hoping he will stop before anyone else gets hurt.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me worry about that.” He stopped and gazed down at her. “I’m sorry this happened, and I know it frightens you. But we’ll get to the bottom of it and stop the raiding. One way or the other.”
“I hope so.” She pursed her lips. “You sent the corporal for Captain Rodgers, too. Is he going with you?”
“No,” he said, pulling her closer. “He will be at the fort with you and Sally. Please, try not to worry.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Captain Rodgers had a detail of men, searching for the stranger you saw. They didn’t find him, so I’d released the men. I need to tell Rodgers what you saw and have his men start looking again.”
“I hope I’m right. I wouldn’t want to lead your men on a wild goose chase.”
He touched her cheek, caressing it. “Quit worrying, Mallory. Some extra caution is never wasted effort.”
She turned her face into his hand and kissed his fingertips. “If you say so, Will.”
“I do say so.” His voice was gruff, even to his own ears. He wanted to kiss her but now wasn’t the time or place. Instead, he took her arm and steered her along the path.
“While I’m taking care of Murphy and the Apaches, I believe you have a wedding to plan, and the sooner the better.”
“But, I, uh, I haven’t accepted your proposal, Will. You told me you would be patient. I don’t know if I’m cut out to be an Army wife.”
“Well, you grew up on a plantation. How about a farmer’s wife?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve only five years to retirement. Then, I’m going home to Ohio and my family’s farm. It’s a nice-sized farm, lying fallow. With my only brother killed in the Civil War and my sisters married, I’m the only one left to care for it. Both my parents are dead.”
She inhaled sharply. “You never told me that.”
“Why should I? To stir up old feelings of sorrow and regret?”
She held his elbow tighter. “I guess farming would be fine, especially away from the frontier.”
The fort loomed ahead. He walked faster, and she kept stride with him. They crossed the parade ground and came to a stop in front of the Rodgers’ cabin.
“I’m glad you approve.” He cleared his throat. “How long for you and Sally to pull the wedding together?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Two weeks, maybe three.”
He shook his head. “I’m sure you brought a wedding dress with you, since you were going to marry E.P. And the reverend has his crutches and can stand up long enough to bless our union. All you and Sally have to do is decide how many people to invite to the reception and prepare for that.”
“I still haven’t said yes to your proposal, Will.”
“I’d like you to want this marriage, Mallory, but it can’t be put off any longer.” He took her hand and laced her fingers with his. “You’ve been raised to be a proper lady. You, more than anyone, should know you’ve been compromised.”
She recoiled and pulled away. He let her go.
He stared at the ground. “Both Myerson and Walsh know.” He pulled his hand through his hair. “By this time, the whole damned fort knows.”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have gone off with you to see the waterfall. Today, we went out and picked wildflowers together.”
“Yes, and even that could have started tongues wagging. But it’s not the same as being out at night together.”
“All right.” She shrugged. “I guess I haven’t any choice.”
His heart dropped to the soles of his feet and the old, sick feeling he’d had, watching Martha being taken from him, returned. Dark disappointment dropped over him, like a shroud.
If he’d thought he was marrying Mallory for their mutual convenience, tonight had taught him otherwise. He wanted her, desired her like a young man would. Thinking of his life without her, even though he had his daughter, was like crossing a desert, bleak and desolate.
Was he falling in love with her?
He’d thought she cared for him. Perhaps, but perhaps not. Evidently, the idea of marrying him, wasn’t particularly appealing. But if he loved her, wouldn’t she, in time, come to care for him?
Did he want her that way?
What if she hated frontier life so much that five more years was like a life sentence? What if her fears and homesickness kept her from caring for him?
The last thing he wanted, no matter how much he might care for her, was an unwilling wife.
“Look, Mallory, no one is forcing you to marry me. But if you don’t, you can’t stay at Fort Davis. It will be terrible for you.” He gazed at her and dropped her hand.
She bit the inside of her cheek and sniffed.
Was she about to cry? Because of what he’d done or what he’d said? Now, he felt horrible. Blood on his hands, and he’d compromised a refined young lady, all in one night. Why on earth had he thought she might want him?
“Mallory, I can loan you the money to return to Georgia. You can pay me back, a little at a time. You do have a choice. I don’t want you to feel forced because of my thoughtlessness…” He cleared his throat again. “You’re welcome to the money to get back home.”
She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “No, no, Will, it’s not that. It’s not that I don’t want to marry you. It’s that I need to tell you something.”
His heart lifted, hope sprouting again.
“All right. Fine, then. Tell me.”
“Remember when I said my aunt and I quarreled over a young man?”
“Yes. That’s when she asked you to leave.”
She shook her head and looked down. “It wasn’t as simple as the man not being acceptable, Will. He—”
“Colonel Gregor, Colonel Gregor, sir. We need you over here.” Corporal Walsh came running up again.
He grabbed her hands. “Tell me. Whatever it is, they
can wait. I want to hear why you can’t marry me.”
She glanced over his shoulder at the corporal hovering nearby. Lowering her head, she murmured, “Not now, Will. Not now. When you get back.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Please, take care of yourself. Come home safely.”
***
Mallory heard a tap-tapping on her door. Only half asleep, she threw back the covers and reached for her wrap. “Come in.”
Sally opened the door and clucked her tongue. “What a sleepy head you are. You missed breakfast.”
“I wasn’t hungry.” She put her wrap on and tied the belt.
“I saved you some biscuits and bacon.”
“That’s kind of you, but I don’t think I could eat anything.”
Sally stepped into the room and perched herself on the ladder-back chair. “Want to talk about it? The captain is gone, and I know you were out late and—”
“Yes, I was out with the commander.” And as she said the words, she knew how she sounded—sarcastic and self-indulgent. “I’m sure the whole fort knows and is waiting with bated breath to find out the next chapter and verse.”
Sally rose and hugged her. “The rest of the fort and town can think what they want. But I know you and the colonel, and neither of you have a dishonorable bone in your body.” Sally pulled apart and held her shoulders, gazing into her eyes. “You’ll always be my friend, and you must know I will defend you to the end.”
Mallory sighed. Sally only thought she knew her. She wasn’t the least bit honorable. No, she was the epitome of dishonorable. First, Hiram, and now, William.
But that wasn’t fair, at least not to William. He was more than ready to do the honorable thing. She was the dishonorable one, dithering over what to do with her life. Too afraid of the consequences to make a decision.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Sally everything and see what she thought. But then she’d be back to living her life beholden to someone, like she had been with Nancy, a charity case. The very thing she’d come west to overcome.
Sally released her. “If you’re not hungry, want to come to town with me? The eastbound stagecoach is in, and their mailbags are full.” She smiled. “You’ve probably got letters from back home.”
At the thought of hearing about her son, her heart lifted. He was still the one bright, shining star in her life.
“Yes, I’d love to come to town. It’s been a while since I got letters from my friend.” She plastered a smile on her face. “Let me get washed up and dressed. I’ll be right there.”
“Good. I’ll start the mid-day meal while you get ready.” Sally closed the bedroom door behind her.
Was it that late? Mallory peeked out her window to see the sun riding high in the sky. Good thing she’d given her students the day off after the celebration. Today, of all days, she would have been worthless as a teacher.
Last night, she’d barely slept, on and off, a few minutes at a time. She’d paced the floor and considered what to do. How to tell Will her shameful secret? How to be prepared when he didn’t want her and packed her off to Georgia? He’d lauded her for being a refined and proper lady. Now, he would learn the sordid truth.
But it wasn’t her shame she was afraid of… not now. No, she’d been awake when Will and Captain Myerson had led out the two companies this morning. And seeing Will astride Boots, her heart had stopped.
For her, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, looking confident and commanding in his blue uniform. He sat his roan as if the horse was a part of him, while issuing orders with the decisiveness of a man who hated injustice—a man who wanted to stop the bloody murders, single-handed, if possible.
She’d long admired Will, since that first day he’d rescued her. But when had her admiration and respect turned into love? With her heart in her throat and clutching the windowsill, she’d had to restrain herself from rushing to him, begging him not to go into danger. Pleading with him to hear her out, to forgive her, and to love her.
Summoning all her self-control, she’d stopped herself from running to him. More public displays weren’t what was needed. What was needed was the strength and courage to tell him and then live with the consequences.
Knowing what she knew now—that Will was probably the first and only man she’d loved as a woman, how could she risk losing him? First, she’d lost Beau to the war, but she’d been little more than a child. She and Beau had grown up together and, at the time, she’d thought their friendship was love. More like puppy love.
Then there had been the suave and debonair Hiram. Wealthy when most southerners didn’t have two dimes to rub together, he’d swept her off her feet with worthless promises. And she’d fallen for him. Pure infatuation, nothing more.
This time, if she lost Will, she didn’t know if she wanted to go on living.
Except for her son.
Clinging to the hope of hearing about her son from Nancy, she washed quickly and got dressed, pulling her hair in the severe bun she usually wore.
When she and Sally stepped outside, Sally linked their arms together. “Don’t worry if you get some strange looks.”
“I won’t. Will and I didn’t do anything wrong.” She lifted her head and jutted out her chin. She knew the drill. She’d lived with the shame after Hiram deserted her.
“Good. I’ve got several stops to make,” Sally said. “Here’s a letter I need posting. Can you do that for me?” She handed Mallory an envelope. “I know you’ll want to go to the post office first, but I need to go to the butcher’s and the general store. You can read your letters and wait for me.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and squeezed Sally’s arm. She put the letter in her apron pocket, along with two letters she’d been meaning to send to Nancy. Sally was kind, thinking ahead, knowing she’d want to go straight to the post office.
They parted ways in the middle of the street. Mrs. Lovell was there, talking to another lady. Mallory nodded but Becky’s mother looked past her… as if she didn’t exist and as if Mrs. Lovell hadn’t helped with the play last night.
It had already begun.
She entered the tiny building and held out the letters to Mrs. Burnside. “Good morning.”
Mrs. Burnside looked up and pursed her lips, appearing as if she’d been sucking on a lemon. She had a desperate glint in her eye, as if she couldn’t make up her mind to go with her natural inclinations or to give into professional courtesy.
Finally, she took the three letters and bobbed her head. “Morning.”
“Do you have—”
“Yes, Miss Reynolds, three letters for you today.”
She took the letters. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Burnside stared at a spot over her head and nodded.
She didn’t care. It had been almost a month since she’d heard from Nancy, and she couldn’t wait to read the letters. She settled on the wooden bench outside and glanced at the postmarks. As was her custom, she’d read the oldest one first.
She shuffled the envelopes into order but when she touched the last letter, posted over a month ago, a frisson of something swept her, as if she’d walked over someone’s grave.
Looking right and then left, she found the street was deserted. There wasn’t even a stray lounger on the saloon’s front porch. Pushing the odd feeling aside, she tore open Nancy’s first letter and skimmed the contents:
“Macon sends his love… misses his Mommy… still doing well in school… but can’t wait for summer vacation…”
She lifted her head. Back East, summer vacation was a time-honored tradition, but in the West, where no one knew if there would be an instructor from one year to the next, children were granted fewer holidays. Here, she was expected to hold school all year.
She lowered her head and continued to read:
“… was shocked to learn Hiram’s wife, Sybil Rutledge Calhoun died in child birth… Hiram inconsolable…”
Shaking her head, she did
n’t want to hear about Hiram. What did Nancy think she should do, rush back to Charleston and demand that Hiram marry her and recognize his son?
In a pig’s eye!
The letter went on:
“… surprised to learn Reverend Finley doesn’t like Fort Davis… asked to be transferred… Texas Methodist Conference couldn’t find a replacement… he asked my husband… proud to say… found a family man here in Georgia… willing to move to Fort Davis… Mr. Whitehead and his wife, Katherine… must make them feel at home…”
Mallory finished the letter, not knowing what to think about Nancy’s tasteless inclusion of Hiram and his wife’s death.
But despite her mixed feelings, she bowed her head and said, “God rest her soul.”
She opened the flap of the second letter, a note, really, just a few terse words scribbled across one piece of paper. The words literally leapt off the page:
“…Hiram out of his mind with grief and wanting his son… must have known about Macon… has been to our house… we hid the boy… Hiram will be back… his money can buy him… the authorities will… the reverend and I are trying to find a way… keep Macon safe.”
Her heart clenched in her chest and a fine sheen of perspiration coated her. Her stomach knotted, and her hands trembled as she ripped open the third and final letter:
Dearest Mallory,
If you got my last note, you will know the reverend and I had to find a safe place for Macon. After much discussion and prayer, we decided to send Macon to you with the new pastor and his family, a Reverend Whitehead, who will be taking over for Reverend Finley. The Whiteheads have a boy who is Macon’s age and a little girl who’s four years old. His wife, Katherine, is very good with children and
Macon likes the family. He’s so excited to be joining his mother in the West.
Not knowing what else to do, we bought his steamer ticket with the funds you left us and entrusted Reverend Whitehead with some pocket money for the boy. The Whiteheads, good Christians that they are, didn’t want to take anything, but with two of their own to feed, we convinced them. If you need the remainder of your funds, we will gladly wire them to you if you can travel to the nearest telegraph office.
