Cristabelle_The Christmas Bride

by Hebby Roman

  Someone had obviously given the bandits the wrong route, which made him wonder where they’d gotten their information. And they’d taken pains to disguise themselves, too. If they’d been successful, the soldiers would be looking for a band of Apache, not Mexican bandits.

  The fort’s pay came overland, but by wagon, not on the stagecoach. Lieutenant Colonel Gregor had changed the way their wages were transported when he’d taken command, ordering the wagon to come by back trails through neighboring ranches. And they changed the route, each time, to ward off attacks like what had happened today.

  It was sobering, to say the least, to see men who you knew die. Made you realize how short life was, especially guarding the frontier. Private Higgins was an acquaintance, a part of Company C. But Corporal Simmons was another story, they’d been friends, of a sort. They’d shared some good times together at the Spring Street Saloon.

  Then there was Crissy.

  If life was short, shouldn’t he be getting on with it? She sparked feelings in him no other woman had. Was he ready to settle down and raise a passel of young’un’s? If he was, what about her ailing mother? Was he ready to take on that responsibility, too?

  If not, what were his intentions? Honorable, he hoped, but would she want to be an Army wife?

  He’d never thought of marrying before, believing he’d remain single. His mother had scoffed, warning him the lightning bolt of true love would strike him, too. And she’d been right. He wanted his Angel, his Crissy, as his own. But should he drag her around from fort to fort?

  He frowned, not certain what he wanted. It was all new to him. Could he be happy in Galveston, enclosed between four walls of a carpenter shop? Wasn’t it the right thing to do, to give his wife and children a safe place to live?

  Once they were inside the fort, he dismounted and handed off Rover, his chestnut gelding, to Private Bates, who took care of his mount. He took off his gloves and tucked them into his belt.

  It was late, and he was tired.

  The trumpeter stood beneath the lowered flag and belted out tattoo, the call to get ready to turn in. In another quarter of an hour, they’d hear taps, and the barracks’ lamps would be extinguished.

  Private O’Rourke ran up to him and saluted. “There’s a lady at the front gate of the fort, asking for you, Sergeant.”

  Could it be Crissy? His heart warmed, thinking she might be concerned about him. “Thank you, Private O’Rourke. I’ll go and see what the lady wants.”

  “Yes, sir.” O’Rourke saluted again and whispered, “Remember, lights out in fifteen minutes, sir.”

  He wasn’t surprised O’Rourke would be complicit in his meeting with a lady. The private was known as a godless womanizer, frequenting the saloon women every payday, and borrowing money from his fellow soldiers to finance his habits.

  He returned the salute. “Yes, I know. I’ll be all right. Thank you for finding me.”

  The private nodded and saluted again.

  It was all he could do—not break into a run. But he restrained himself and strode to the gate of the fort.

  Another line sergeant, Hickie Hayes, greeted him. “I think she’s one of the laundresses.” Hickie inclined his head. “You best be careful, man. The commander doesn’t like us to mix with ‘em.” He grinned and winked. “I’ll leave the gate open. You can lower the bar when you’re through.”

  Davie clasped Hickie’s shoulder. “Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”

  “It’s not my understanding you’ll need. If you get caught, you’ll lose your other stripe.”

  “I know, but she’s worth it.”

  Hickie chuckled and turned away, heading back to the barracks.

  Davie slipped out the gate, and he saw the dark outline of her, standing at the edge of the trees. She still wore the same black dress from earlier today. He crossed to her and took her hands.

  She leaned up and pulled his head down, kissing him. It was the first time she’d taken the initiative, and his heart swelled with tender feelings. But she moved away too soon, and held him at arm’s length, looking him up and down.

  “I’m thankful you’re all right,” she said.

  “Me, too. Though, I lost a good friend today.”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I heard two soldiers were killed.”

  “Yes, one was an acquaintance, but Corporal Simmons was a friend.” He sighed. “And all for nothing—the bandits had been misinformed—thinking the stagecoach carried the fort’s wages. But it didn’t.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. “How horrible.”

  “Yes, makes a man think. But with you here, Angel, I don’t want to think too much. Taps will be called soon, and I’ll need to return to the barracks.” He lowered his head and leaned forward.

  She stepped back, and he almost fell on his face.

  He frowned. “Why won’t you kiss me? A good night kiss, at least. You kissed me first.”

  “Because I was happy to see you were safe.” She lowered her head and bit her lip. “I need to know something, before we… before we…” She raised her face to him.

  “What are your intentions, Sergeant? For us to keep hiding away and stealing kisses. Or… what?”

  It was his turn to take a step back. He’d been wondering the same thing, too, but he was far from a conclusion. And he didn’t like being crowded, either. Wasn’t the man supposed to do the asking?

  “What about returning to the Ursulines?” He was half-teasing, but he couldn’t help but ask, wondering if she really wanted to marry. She was young and probably didn’t know her mind. He wasn’t much of a catch, why would she want him?

  “You’re right.” She turned aside. “I shouldn’t have forgotten what my plans are.”

  He grabbed her hand. “You’re serious about going to a convent.”

  “Only if something happens to my mother.”

  He sighed and let go of her hand. “Then why did you ask me to commit—?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to be compromised, I guess, and I feel like we’re—”

  “Moving too fast?” He stroked his chin. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  “Oh, I see.” The tone of her voice sounded disappointed.

  “I don’t want to give you up, Crissy. Sure and begorrah, it’s not that. But I hadn’t thought to take a wife, and I’m wondering if you’d like Army life? And your mother—what if I’m transferred?”

  “Yes, you’re right, I don’t know if my mother could travel. Some days she seems better, but…” She searched his face and gasped. “My mother? You’re asking about my mother, cloaking your curiosity in concern for her health?”

  “Crissy, we have to consider your mother, especially since you’re taking care of her and she’s ailing.”

  She stared at him. “But that’s not what you’re really asking, is it? You’ve heard the gossip. Haven’t you? And you believed it and thought I would… Thought I was easy and…” She turned and grabbed her skirts.

  He grasped her elbow, stopping her before she could bolt. What was she talking about? Then it came to him—that awful gossip about her mother. He didn’t believe it, though it was odd about her father’s name. But even if the gossip was true, what did it have to do with them?

  Evidently, a lot, to her way of thinking. She thought he would take advantage of her? He might have been a bounder, but he’d never hurt his angel.

  “Crissy, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m thinking on it, wondering how best to provide for you and your mother.” He paused. “As for the other, I don’t care if it’s true or not. I would never—”

  “If you don’t know what you want to do, I shouldn’t be with you.” She jerked her arm free. “Please, don’t bother me again. I’ll not be… not be easy and cheap.”

  “But I don’t want to cause you any disgrace—”

  “And I don’t want to hear your lying words.” She covered her ears with her hands and whi
rled away.

  She ran toward town, and the night swallowed her.

  Davie stared after her, wondering what he could do to reassure her of his love? He would never do anything dishonorable or hurt her. But it was late, and he’d be sneaking in, as it was. He’d better get back to the barracks.

  He’d find Crissy tomorrow and straighten things out.

  * * *

  Crissy put her head down and ran as fast as she could.

  He knew. He knew!

  He thought she was like her mother—to be had for a few kisses. It was unbearable. Her heart felt like a piece of glass in her chest, a piece of glass that was shattering.

  She rounded the porch of the Brackett General Store, thinking to use the back door to their room. At the corner, her foot hit something, and she heard a voice call out, “Ouch!”

  Crissy caught the corner post to keep from pitching straight forward into the dirt. She looked around, but it was dark, and she didn’t see anything. But she heard something, scrabbling in the dirt.

  Leaning down, she let her eyes adjust to the dark and saw the thin legs of a child, sticking out from beneath the porch. It was obvious the child was frightened and hiding. She wondered who it could be?

  She tried to make her voice soft and cajoling. “I’m sorry I tripped over your foot, but I didn’t see you there. What are you hiding from? Won’t you come out, please?”

  No movement, but she thought she heard sniffling and crying. She squatted down, sitting back on her heels, and holding out her hand. “Please, come out. I want to help you, child.”

  She waited. Finally, she heard some scrabbling again, and a small girl stuck her head out. Her voice was a thin wail. “Is it safe?”

  “Yes, of course, it’s safe.” Crissy took the little girl’s hand. “Please, let me help you.”

  Slowly, the girl, who looked to be about ten years old, emerged and stood up. Her dress was dirty and shredded, torn with big holes in it. Her face was dirty and smudged, and her thin legs and arms were covered with scratches. Her lace-up boots were ruined, mere pieces of tattered leather, barely covering her feet.

  Could this be the child who had been on the stagecoach?

  She gathered the little girl into her arms. “Let me take you home, and you can explain where you came from. My mother and I live back here.”

  The girl said nothing, snuggling into her arms. Crissy’s heart went out to her. Poor thing, poor little thing.

  Holding the child, she couldn’t get to the key in her pocket, but she managed to knock on the back door.

  Her mother opened the door quickly, saying, “Crissy, I’m glad you’re back. I was worried… Who is this?”

  “I’m not certain, but I think it’s the child from the stagecoach.”

  “The stagecoach!” The little girl cried out and squirmed in Crissy’s arms. “No, no, no!” And then her teeth started chattering, though it was high summer and plenty warm.

  “She’s in shock,” Crissy’s mother said. “I’ve seen the signs before, when… when I worked at the Tin Star.” Her mother pointed. “Put her on the bed and heap all of our blankets around her. I’ll get some of the soup you made yesterday. And some iodine for her arms and legs.”

  Crissy did as her mother instructed and between the two of them, they got the little girl to stop shivering and swallow a few spoonfuls of soup. The child laid back against the pillow with Mary cuddling her.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor in my bedroll,” Crissy offered.

  “Yes, I think that would be best. She needs for me to hold her,” her mother said.

  “Shouldn’t we ask her—?”

  “If we can keep her awake long enough. We do need to know, though, it can wait until morning.”

  The girl’s eyelids lowered, and her head nodded. But she must have heard them talking because she wiped her nose and said, “My name’s Ellie Anderson. The Indians killed my parents.”

  Crissy knew they were Mexican bandits, dressed as Apaches, but what good would it do to correct the girl?

  “I don’t think they saw me at first, they were busy shooting… I ducked into some bushes. And I ran, and ran, and ran. I was scared.” She sobbed. “I ran until I saw the town, and I hid under the general store.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I should have stayed with my parents.” Tears streamed from her eyes. “I don’t want to live. Don’t want to live without my Ma and Pa.”

  She lowered her head, and her thin shoulders shook.

  Crissy’s mother held Ellie close, trying to soothe her, stroking her tangled hair, and rubbing her back. “There, there, Ellie. Shhh, child. You did the right thing. You saved yourself. I know your Ma and Pa would have wanted you to save yourself.”

  Ellie kept sobbing, and Crissy met her mother’s gaze. “I’ll get ready for bed,” she said. “We’ll have to go to Commander Gregor at the fort tomorrow.”

  “Yes, and I hope Maxine has some ready-made clothes to fit her. Poor thing.”

  Ellie’s sobs slowly ebbed away. Her eyes closed, and Mary laid her gently against the pillow.

  “I’ll wash my face and change to a nightshirt,” her mother said, gazing down at the little girl. “I don’t want to leave her alone for too long. She might have nightmares and wake up crying.”

  Crissy gently stroked the little girl’s hair back from her face. “You’re the best with frightened children, Mama. I should know. I remember when I was scared of stuff or sick, you’d hold me until morning.” She raised her head and snagged her mother’s gaze. “You were always there for me.”

  “Oh, Crissy.” Her mother hugged her. “I’m glad you feel that way. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

  And Crissy did mean it—with all her heart.

  She’d never be ashamed of her mother again. Never again, knowing her mother had done her best. Knowing her mother had always loved and taken care of her.

  Her mother started coughing and had to pull away.

  She got out her handkerchief, and Crissy couldn’t help but notice a couple of red spots on the white cloth. Mary wiped her mouth and hid the handkerchief quickly.

  Her mother had never coughed up blood before—what did it mean?

  A sense of dread dragged at her. She’d been a fool to think her Mama was getting better. Tomorrow, she’d ask Dr. Irving when the medicine would arrive.

  And she’d need to go to the fort at first light to stop the scouts from going out and searching for a child who’d already been found.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Colonel Gregor raised his head. He heard a tap on the headquarters’ door and blinked his eyes, realizing he’d fallen asleep at his desk again. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his office last night, especially after laying his sweet Martha to rest. He should have gone home to Peggy.

  But he hadn’t wanted to go home—not to the empty stillness of a house without his wife.

  It wasn’t fair to his daughter, though. She’d lost her mother. Good thing Miss Phillips hadn’t departed yet. Or maybe it wasn’t. The nurse was a reminder of what the past few weeks had been like. At least, someone had been at home to see to his daughter.

  Miss Phillips already had another nursing job in San Antonio. He’d have to see about getting someone to take care of Peggy when the nurse left on the next stagecoach going east.

  The stagecoach—he’d almost forgotten.

  The knocking sounded again, harder this time. “Come in,” he called out and smoothed his hair back with both hands.

  Captain MacTavish of Company C entered the room and saluted. He approached the desk and held out a piece of paper. “The written report, sir, as you requested last night.”

  Gregor took the piece of paper and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Lieutenant Bullis has requested twenty of our scouts to go and look for the missing child.”

  “Permission granted.” Gregor peered out the window toward the horizon. Daylight was barely breaking; it
must be between five-thirty and six o’clock. “See they’re mustered out by seven hundred hours.”

  “Yes, sir.” MacTavish said and hesitated. “There’s one other thing. Something Sergeant Donovan—”

  “What has Sergeant Donovan done this time?” Gregor huffed and scratched the overnight beard on his jaw. “Don’t tell me—I have to demote him again?”

  MacTavish averted his head. “He’s a fine soldier, sir. Shot one of those bandits, right between the eyes, without appearing to take aim.”

  “I know he’s a fine soldier. It’s his other shenanigans that gets him into trouble.”

  This time, MacTavish didn’t try to hide his smile. “Yes, he’s one to test the limits, sir, but he hasn’t done anything wrong. Thank the…” MacTavish caught himself. “Uh, thank heavens, sir. It’s something he said to me last night after lights out.”

  “What were you doing jawing with a non-commissioned officer after taps, Captain MacTavish?”

  “We weren’t jawing, sir. He came to my cabin and asked politely to be excused for being out late because he wanted to ask me something. And he got me to thinking.”

  “What about, MacTavish?”

  “Sergeant Donovan wanted to know who, other than the officers of Company C, knew about how you’d changed the pay transport. And who didn’t know. Same thing in town, he asked, if anyone knew?”

  Gregor straightened and gazed at MacTavish. David Donovan might be a prankster and full of mischief, but he was nobody’s fool. “No one knows in town. And the officers of Company C knew, no one else.”

  MacTavish shook his head. “Doesn’t narrow things much. Does it? Anyone but Company C officers could have given the Mexicans the wrong information.”

  “No, it doesn’t narrow things at all.” Gregor scratched his chin again. “But it makes me think of something else.”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “The Fourth of July celebration is slated for…” He paused and pulled his calendar closer, peering at it. “For ten days from now. Correct?”

  “Yes, sir. All the soldiers are looking forward to it,” the tone of MacTavish’s voice lightened and carried an edge of excitement. “The ladies’ auxiliary has been planning the food, decorations, and dance for months. Now, if we can get that load of fireworks from San Antonio, we’ll be—"