Laura Abbot

by Into the Wilderness

  He covered his eyes with his forearm. “You’re right, but ’tis hard to be a slacker.”

  “No one will accuse you of that. If they do, they will have to deal with my displeasure.”

  He uncovered his eyes and managed a wan grin. “None of them boys would want to face the wrath of Miss Lily.”

  “Very well, then. Lie still and get some rest.”

  As she finished her duties and headed toward the cemetery, she felt a sense of accomplishment. She was not only a nurse, but, at times, a kind of counselor. She was often touched by the confidences her patients shared with her and, as with the corporal, their disappointments. Although she never forgot the specter of the terrible day of the storm and the leering Adams, thankfully now removed to Fort Riley, by and large she found the men to be both forthcoming and, ironically, vulnerable.

  The late sun sent shafts of light sparkling through the leafy trees. After the high temperatures of the day, the shade gave at least an illusion of cool. Lily sank down on the grass beside her mother’s grave and removed her bonnet. Not for the first time it occurred to her that if she went to St. Louis, she would leave not only her father and sister, but this sacred place where she communed with her mother’s spirit. Only here did she feel a peace which often eluded her at the fort.

  Engrossed in her thoughts, she only belatedly became aware of a figure standing several feet behind her. Looking around, she saw Caleb. He stood silent, erect, his expression unfathomable.

  “I thought I would find you here,” he said, extending a hand to help her to her feet.

  “’Tis my custom,” she said, avoiding his eyes. She had been halfway irritated with him ever since he so obviously ignored her at the poetry reading for reasons she could not imagine. Why had he bothered to approach her now?

  “I know.” Silence hung awkwardly between them.

  “Well?” She clasped her hands in front of her and waited for some explanation of his presence.

  “I ride out tomorrow.”

  “I wish you and your men a safe journey.” Their conversation was perfunctory and stilted, and she chafed under the clumsiness of this meeting.

  “Before leaving, I wanted to apologize for failing to compliment you on your poetry reading.”

  “I, likewise, would have complimented you, but, alas, you made a hurried retreat before I could do so.” She cringed at the sarcasm in her tone.

  “There was a reason for that.”

  “Ours is not to wonder why,” she said.

  He moved closer, staring at her so intently, she had to avert her eyes. “I was avoiding you.”

  Surprised, she looked up. “Whatever for? I thought we were friends.”

  “And so we are.” He lifted a hand and gently caressed her hair.

  Dwarfed by his broad shoulders and the sudden warmth in his voice, she felt herself grow breathless in response.

  She struggled for the words that would still her racing heart. “I am glad of it,” she finally said.

  He tilted her chin, so that she was helpless to avoid his honey-brown eyes, swimming with affection. “Friends we are, but, Lily, is there a possibility we could be more than friends?”

  Thunderstruck, she stared at him, trying to fathom the implications of his words. More than friends? Yes, she admired him. And, yes, in her bed in the dark hours of the night, she had admitted to an attraction to him. But...more than friends?

  He gently cupped her face in his hands, preventing her from looking away, or even breathing. “Please, Lily. While I’m gone, say you’ll think about us.”

  Us? Rioting emotions rendered her incapable of speech.

  “Will you?” he asked in a low, insistent voice.

  She would say anything to subdue the tingling she felt in every nerve. “Yes.”

  “Thank you, dear Lily,” he murmured, just before leaning forward and kissing her.

  Nothing had prepared her for the riot of emotions sweeping through her, for the undeniable need she had to feel his lips on hers or for her new, topsy-turvy sense of self.

  He stepped back and held her hands in his. “We will talk when I return. I have much to tell you.” He paused, then added with a rueful shake of his head, “And much to confess.” He leaned down and picked up her bonnet, holding it tenderly against his chest before handing it to her. “I will miss you, Lily.”

  She couldn’t help herself. The words popped out, uncensored. “And I you.”

  Then he was gone, leaving her standing in the twilight of the cemetery, warmth suffusing her body. What had she just promised? Whatever it was, it was profound. She turned and faced her mother’s headstone. Oh, Mama. What is happening to me?

  Chapter Eight

  Along with the other women, Lily waited in the dawn watching the cavalrymen assemble on the parade ground, their postures erect, their eyes fixed on Major Hurlburt, mounted on a white steed. Other than the occasional nicker of a horse, it was eerily quiet. Rose stood on one side of her and Effie on the other. Walking his steed back and forth in front of his troops, the major began to speak.

  “Duty calls us to restore order and peace to Kansas and the Indian Territory. We cannot afford to let the native peoples pose additional threats to the settlers moving through the frontier. Obey your officers, fight with valor and bring honor to these United States of America. Let us go with God and return safely.” Then with a flourish, he wheeled his horse and led them from the fort.

  Beside her, Effie drew a ragged breath, belying the usual calm she projected as the commander’s wife. Stifling a sigh, Lily wondered into what dangers the men were advancing. They made a grand sight trotting in formation. The sound of hoofbeats and the clouds of dust made talking difficult, a relief to Lily. What words were there for such an expedition? She supposed that any being uttered were in the form of prayer.

  What irony lay in the major’s words to “go with God.” Was it presumed God was partisan and would protect the soldiers while the enemy was killed? She wondered to whom the Indians prayed. She suspected both sides were capable of bloodlust and both of humanity.

  From the first massing of the troops to the now diminishing line crossing the prairie, she had focused on Caleb, sitting erect in the saddle, his jaw set with purpose. Even after Rose and Effie wandered off, Lily remained, an arm around a post, watching as Caleb became nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

  Tossing and turning in the night, she had examined and reexamined her encounter with Caleb in the cemetery. She had imagined the many different ways their conversation might have played out. She could have reacted angrily to his admission he had been ignoring her. She might have brushed his hand away when he touched her hair. And most certainly she could have rejected the surprising kiss. And what had ever possessed her to agree to “think about” something beyond friendship? Yet even in this recital of possible alternatives, she could never bring herself to renounce her final statement to him, because it was true. She would, indeed, miss him.

  Yet she was disturbed by what he might tell her when he returned. He had used the word confess. He must carry some burden unknown to her. She had already observed that he was tight-lipped about his past, especially his war experiences. Most soldiers had their individual stories. Some shared their adventures with gusto; others remained steadfastly silent. She suspected Caleb was in the latter group. She wondered how a “confession” might change him and the nature of their relationship.

  When the last of the horses disappeared over a hill, she glanced around the fort—too empty, too quiet, the life seemingly having gone out of it with the departure of the soldiers.

  She walked slowly toward the house, caught up in the one memory she couldn’t dismiss, no matter how she rationalized it. The kiss. Surprisingly sweet, it had aroused emotions in her with which she had no experience. Why, she had practically swooned at the delicious sensation of his lips warm and soft on hers. If she was honest, as Rose reminded her they always should be, she was attracted to Caleb in ways it was no longe
r possible for her to deny. Perhaps their friendship was a mere code word for feelings they both had been fighting—feelings they would need to confront when he returned.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t see Effie standing on her front porch. “Lily, could you spare me a minute? I am in need of a friend.”

  Grateful for the intrusion upon her disturbing thoughts, Lily climbed the steps to the porch. “Happily. I am not yet due at the hospital.”

  “Sit with me, then,” Effie said, gesturing to the wooden rockers. “I find the void after Hurly leaves difficult to bear.”

  A flash of empathy stirred Lily. “The fort has lost vibrancy, that’s for certain.”

  “It never changes, this leave-taking. You would think I might have grown accustomed to it by now.” Effie rocked awhile in silence before going on. “Hurly and I are a true love match, and I simply cannot contemplate a life without him.”

  “We must continue, as always, to pray for the safety of our men.”

  “And to busy ourselves so that the time will seem to elapse more quickly.”

  “Is that ever really possible?”

  The older woman smiled at the absurdity of it. “Never.”

  “Effie, thank you for setting such an example for us. We would all be blessed by a relationship like the one you and the major share.”

  Effie eyed her shrewdly. “Do you think such a match is possible for you?”

  “Perhaps. When I meet the right man.”

  “And when might that be?”

  “I am hoping to meet someone when I go to St. Louis to visit my aunt.”

  “Ah, I see.” Effie slowed her rocking. “The perfectly handsome, sophisticated, successful man-about-town. Am I correct?”

  For reasons Lily couldn’t grasp, the image Effie had created sounded downright distasteful. She felt her cheeks redden. “Something like that.”

  “Posh. Why hold out for a fantasy man when you have a flesh-and-blood man right here who loves you with all his heart?”

  Caught off guard, Lily could only stammer. “Ef-effie? You’re quite mistaken.”

  The older woman hooted. “Oh, child, I know you’re doing your best to discourage Caleb Montgomery and stifle your feelings, but mark my words. God has brought you two together for a purpose. You can fight it if you want, but in the end, you’ll remember this conversation and allow as how Effie Hurlburt knew a thing or two about love.”

  “It is true I am fond of the captain, but—”

  “Stop right there. No but’s. For now, being fond of him will do.”

  Lily had the distinct impression that based on some innate, superior knowledge, Effie was inwardly laughing at her—that she knew Lily’s feelings went beyond fondness. How she had stumbled into this awkward conversation she had no idea, but she knew she needed an escape. She consulted the watch suspended from a chain around her neck. “Dear me, I must fly to the hospital.” She rose then, and as she prepared to leave, laid a hand on Effie’s shoulder. “We will all help you pass the time until the men are safely home. I know the major will make haste to return to you.”

  Effie smiled. “Thank you, dear. May that day come in God’s good time.”

  Walking toward the hospital, Lily was struck by the message she continued to receive from so many sides—everything in God’s good time. That included her upcoming conversation with Caleb.

  * * *

  That night Lily was awakened by a ferocious wind howling around the house and rattling the panes of window glass. In the intermittent flashes of lightning, she could see clouds of airborne dust swirling through the air. A clap of thunder seemed to split the house in two. Somehow Rose continued sleeping, oblivious to the maelstrom outside.

  Lily stepped out of bed and pulled her robe over her gown before tiptoeing downstairs. She didn’t like storms, especially since she’d arrived here and heard troubling stories about cyclones and the damage they could inflict. Despite telling herself she was safe, she trembled with fear each time the wind battered the walls. Entering the kitchen, she was surprised to find her father sitting at the table in the dark, a blanket pulled about him. “Papa, you couldn’t sleep, either?”

  “No, but then I’ve always enjoyed watching storms.”

  She knew there was more to it. Perhaps at times like this, his thoughts, like hers, turned to Mathilda’s and David’s absence. She sought to divert him. “And maybe you’re standing watch over two young ladies and a few men in a hospital?”

  In the illumination of lightning, she saw a grin crease his face. “That, too.”

  Just being in his company, she noticed that her shivering had ceased and the knots in her stomach had eased. They sat in companionable silence until her father spoke. “Lily, perhaps we should talk about Captain Montgomery.”

  She gripped the edge of the table. “Papa, whatever do you mean?”

  “He has taken quite an interest in you.”

  “What is the harm? We are friends.”

  Ezra sighed. “These are the times when I wish your mother was still alive. I am hopeless at delicate conversations.” He paused, as if marshaling his thoughts. “While there has been no unseemly talk, many of us have noticed that he seeks you out and enjoys your company. I have no doubt that thus far, your relationship with him has been within the bounds of propriety. But—”

  Out of the blue came the image of Caleb’s kiss and the forbidden thoughts it gave rise to. Lily hoped the dim light masked her blush.

  “—it is a father’s duty to caution that you must not encourage a man’s attentions unless you have deep feelings for him.”

  “Papa, you know I cannot undertake a romantic relationship. You know Mother’s dream and mine has been that I might one day go to St. Louis.”

  “Does he know that?”

  She shrugged. “No, but it is of no consequence.”

  “My dear, I fear you are misreading the captain’s intentions.”

  Was she? What exactly had Caleb meant about moving beyond mere friendship? So confused had she been by their conversation and the memorable kiss that she had avoided full consideration of his remarks. How naive she must appear. “Help me understand, Papa.”

  “The captain will one day be leaving the army. If he is like most, he will want to settle down, establish a home...marry. Has it occurred to you he may think of you in that regard? If so, you have the potential to hurt him. I would hate to see that happen for you or to such a good man.”

  She stiffened her back. “I am going to St. Louis. I will make that clear to him when he returns.”

  “You are decided, then?” When she nodded her head, he continued. “I confess I have entertained the hope that you might give up that dream and stay with Rose and me. Or perhaps marry an army man.”

  She knew he was referring to Caleb. But marriage? In a flash of insight, she realized she had not been forthcoming with Caleb. She vowed she would tell him of her St. Louis visit as soon as he returned. It would not do for him to think she was toying with his affections. Above all, she did not want to inflict any further pain upon him.

  “Lily?” Her father succeeded in regaining her attention. “Regardless of what I think or want, you must follow your heart, both in matters of love and in self-fulfillment. Much as I would like, I can no longer protect you from the world nor be the arbiter of your behavior and decisions. Your mother and I always wanted the very best for you, but I see now it has to be your best, not ours.”

  Never had Lily loved him more than in that moment. She rounded the table, came up behind him and put her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin on his head. “Thank you, Papa. I will search for happiness, and when I find it, I will thank you.”

  A comfortable silence fell, punctuated only by the sound of raindrops on the roof.

  * * *

  Storms alternating with hot humid days had made conditions during the march challenging. Once the cavalry reached the area from which they would launch their attack, the rains disappeared, leaving only the unreli
eved misery of sun and high temperatures. Caleb did his best to circulate among the encamped men and keep them motivated, but as time dragged on, the weather, bugs and winds took their toll. Mealy rations and the long wait did nothing to improve conditions. Lurking in all their minds was the upcoming task of subduing the Indian uprising. The veterans knew full well with what ferocity the tribes could fight and how fearlessly the warriors faced death.

  Now with the attack set for the next day, the men grew increasingly quiet and restive. By midmorning Caleb felt perspiration dampen his undershirt. He ran a brush through his gritty hair and buttoned his jacket before heading out to Major Hurlburt’s command tent for a briefing.

  Along the way, he passed by a slightly built private sitting against a tree, scribbling on a piece of paper. “Sir?” The fellow stood up, then looked about as if fearing detection. “Would you deliver this message to Miss Lily? Well, you know—” he cleared his throat “—if something happens to me.”

  Caleb wondered how the young man was acquainted with Lily, but set that thought aside as he observed the fear in the private’s eyes. He took the proffered note, then stepped closer so as not to be overheard. “Son, have you been in battle before?”

  The soldier hung his head. “Just once, but that time the Indians ran away. I, uh, I don’t think that’ll happen this time.”

  “Nor do I.” Caleb had seen it before—the terrifying projections made by raw soldiers. Any reasonable man would admit to some fear, but paralyzing fright ill-suited a soldier in the thick of an attack. “You will see action tomorrow, but remember that you will be surrounded by battle-hardened, well-trained comrades. We live as a unit and we fight as a unit. They will do their part, and you will do yours.” He clapped a hand on the youth’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. “Rely on your training and instinct. We’re counting on you, son.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Caleb pocketed the note, then turned away, concerned for the untested soldier about to come under fire. From naive, idealistic boys playing fifes and drums to grown men deserting their fellows in the thick of an engagement, warfare took the measure of a man and cruelly destroyed illusions. He groaned inwardly. Only time would tell whether his talk with the private had stirred his fighting blood.