Flirtation Walk

by Siri Mitchell

  He let his hand drop from her waist, but he didn’t step away from her side. “Cards aren’t allowed at the Point. Just the fact that they have them is grounds for dismissal.”

  “I suppose I should probably take them with me then. I would hate for them to be a temptation to these gentlemen.”

  Deacon threw his cards atop the others and then hastily gathered them up and handed them to her. “Take good care of these, Miss Hammond. Some of the cadets round here are so starved for cards, you might find them prone to go missing.”

  Campbell’s eyes looked as if they might pop right out of his head. “Those are your cards?”

  She drew away from him as if surprised. “You ask that as if you’re not convinced that I’m a lady!”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Playing cards is all the rage in France.” She turned her attention to us. “I didn’t mean to get you gentlemen into trouble.” She dropped the cards into her reticule and wound her arm around Campbell’s. “They aren’t in trouble, are they?”

  Old Conklin couldn’t seem to decide.

  She bent and picked up my coat, offering it to me. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my skirts from the dirt.” She turned to Campbell, who was growing red in the face. “I know it’s probably a grave offense for him to be seen without his coat, but with this dress being so wholly unsuited to a place like this . . .”

  “It’s not usually—”

  “Isn’t there some kind of medal to give cadets like these? When they’ve so kindly used their own free time to humor a girl like me while I was waiting for you?”

  Deacon had stood, and now he was wringing his hands, though I could see laughter in his eyes. “We didn’t figure it would be polite to insist that we couldn’t play cards when she was so set on showing us what her Pa had taught her. And seeing as how he’d just died and all . . .”

  “Yes, well . . .”

  Lucinda took a few steps toward the edge of the drop-off. “I can’t think how I got all the way up here on my own. It’s quite far, isn’t it? You were gone for such a long time, I suppose I’d better go back down or my uncle will wonder what’s become of me.” She turned to wave at us. “Farewell. Thank you for entertaining me. You’ll have to show me your medals once you get them.”

  Campbell was spluttering as they started down the trail. We could hear them both as they left. “They give us all a bad name—”

  “For what?” Lucinda’s voice was all innocence.

  “For . . . being out of uniform and—”

  “They weren’t out of uniform when I came upon them.”

  Maybe not. But we had been playing cards.

  Dandy was already passing around the whiskey.

  Deacon was effusive. “She was a brick. Saved our hides is what she did!”

  Otter was grinning. “Mother sure would have smiled to see her. She always says a girl oughter have spunk if she has nothing else.”

  They were acting as if she’d won some kind of contest. “Hold on now, we still might get some demerits.”

  Dandy was eyeing me. “I don’t think so. And she didn’t waste any time jumping in front of you. She didn’t have to do that. Especially not in front of old Conklin. If it was me, I think I’d find a way to thank her.”

  That was the thing of it. She hadn’t had to do any of that, and yet she had. Why? “Don’t sing her praises too quickly. She did take your cards, Deke.”

  “Dadgumit! She did, didn’t she? So what are we going to do for the rest of the afternoon?”

  I had an idea. “This is the perfect time for all of you to study.”

  Otter’s face fell. “You just had to go and ruin Saturday afternoon, didn’t you?”

  Dandy jammed the top back on the whiskey with the flat of his palm. “We’re all here, so you might as well tell us what we need to know.”

  “Which subject?”

  The fellows looked at each other for a long moment. “Tactics.”

  I must have explained some of the principles in Jomini’s The Art of War for over an hour, drawing diagrams in the dirt and answering the same question about offensive warfare over and over again. Finally there wasn’t much more I could tell them. “Did you follow?”

  Deacon nodded.

  I looked over at Otter, who had just spit onto his shoe and then knelt to rub the toe of it to a shine. “Otter? How about you?”

  “Well now . . . I was just thinking how in war, generally laws are disregarded . . . ? I mean, someone must be breaking the law if there’s a war—right?”

  “Right.”

  “I just don’t understand why we got to study constitutional and international law if all we expect people to do is break them. I mean, hadn’t we oughter—”

  Deacon cut in. “Maybe . . . think about it this way: we study tactics for fighting and law for when the fighting’s over.”

  “I think . . . maybe . . .” A sort of wonderment swept over his face, and he grinned. “It’s just like when Mother—”

  Deacon jabbed me in the ribs. “She knows something about everything, doesn’t she.”

  On my other side, Otter was nodding. “She’s really smart that way.”

  Heaven help us all. “Dandy? How about you?”

  “I got it. And I appreciate all you said. So do me a favor and listen to what I said.”

  “About what?”

  “About that Miss Hammond. You ought to find a way to thank her.”

  33

  Lucinda

  The walk back down the hill had been pleasant if brisk. Mr. Conklin spent some time regaling me with stories of his illustrious ancestors, one of whom had been stationed, during the revolution, inside Fort Putnam’s walls. At one point we paused to enjoy the views of the river. If he’d gotten rather close when he’d done so, I couldn’t say it was disagreeable. The quickest way to help along a scheme like this was to flirt with a man. And after all this time, I could flirt without even half trying.

  Mostly, he’d been a proper gentleman. He’d had to take my hand to assist me when the path became too steep, and in my opinion, he’d kept hold of it when he didn’t really need to, so in that sense, things appeared to be progressing. But when I’d dropped my handkerchief, instead of keeping it as I offered, he had returned it with a bow, insisting that having it discovered in his possession would be in violation of the rules. I ought to have been glad, because I didn’t have enough handkerchiefs to be quite so free with them, but somehow, the whole exchange had left me feeling peevish.

  When I tried to coax him into forgetting his complaints about Seth and his friends, he began to lecture. “They try to make you feel sorry for them, but they deserve the demerits they get. They’ve earned them. If they’re stupid enough to break the rules, they deserve to be caught—don’t you think?”

  He didn’t have any idea who he was talking to. It was difficult to resist the impulse to laugh. “Perhaps they just don’t care.”

  “How could they not care?” He took my words as an offense, though he lent me his hand to aid me down the path.

  I had to start choosing my words more carefully when I was with him.

  “I’m doing them a favor. If they don’t learn how to obey rules now, how are they going to become good officers?”

  How indeed? I picked my way around rocks and took care as I sidestepped down breaks in the path that had been made by cascading rivulets of rain.

  “Could be, I’ll end up commanding some of them one day. Why not whip them into shape now and spare myself the trouble later?”

  I nodded, glad to have firmly entrenched myself on his side of law and order.

  “Although I wouldn’t want them to reform too quickly. Some of them are quite smart. I can’t be too careful. Especially in drawing. Professor Weir thinks I’m too mechanical, and I’ll never be as good as Deacon Hollingsworth.”

  “Deacon’s good at drawing?”

  “He’s brilliant.”

  “Truly? I didn’t think he cared abou
t his studies.” I hadn’t thought any of them did.

  “He cares just enough not to be dismissed. Drawing is his one talent . . . along with the knack for hanging on by the skin of his teeth.”

  He did have the way of a rogue about him. I hid my smile, letting Mr. Conklin pass me by and then pausing to take a look at the valley. It truly was magnificent.

  “If they were really ready to be officers, they would care about their uniforms and the damage that card playing might do to their reputations.”

  “Do you think we might stop for a moment? It’s so beautiful up here.”

  He squinted up at me. “Better not. I’d hate to be late for supper.”

  Once back within the cadet area, many of the cadets saluted Mr. Conklin. Some also avoided him, if I was reading their actions correctly, ducking behind corners, or changing directions entirely.

  He was feared, perhaps, but he did not appear to be liked.

  But of what importance was people liking him when there was clearly respect? Being a man of merit didn’t require the admiration of others. It required being worthy of honor. And if anyone was worthy of honor and accolades it was Campbell Conklin. With him, life would be mine for the making. The smart course of action was to link my life with someone who was going places. Someone who could take me along with him. Compassion wasn’t required for that. There was plenty of compassion in my aunt’s house, but that house was also located in humble Buttermilk Falls. My uncle might be a respectable man, but he was still just a professor.

  My father had trained me for more than that. He’d trained me for a life of luxury and self-indulgence. And his self-indulgence too, a little voice inside my head declared.

  Perhaps. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate merit where I found it. A man like Campbell needed to marry someone. Why shouldn’t that someone be me?

  Mr. Conklin wasn’t late. As a matter of fact, we reached the academy grounds about half an hour early. When I asked him to escort me to my uncle’s office, he pointed out the building and excused himself by reason of having to consult with the commandant.

  By that time, Seth Westcott and his friends had followed us down the hill. I made a point of ignoring him, but it quite quickly became apparent that we were both headed for the academy building.

  With his long legs, he swiftly caught up with me and then matched his stride to mine. As I walked up the steps to the building, he dashed in front of me and held the door open.

  “Thank you.”

  “Lucinda, I—”

  “I’m not allowed to speak to you.” Although I had, up there on that mountain. “Not in public in any case.” And especially not when we were approaching my uncle’s office.

  “I just wanted to thank you. For what you did up there.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Mr. Conklin just seemed to me to be a bit zealous in his pursuit of order and propriety. It didn’t seem quite fair. That’s all.”

  “I wish things could be different, Lucinda.”

  I wished they could be too. “Why can’t they be?” I stepped closer so my voice wouldn’t carry. “Why don’t you care anymore, Seth?”

  “Anymore? Who says I ever cared at all?”

  He wasn’t very good at lying. I wanted to put my hand to his cheek and tell him everything was going to be all right. “My uncle.”

  “What does he know about anything?” The words would have sounded more defiant if they hadn’t been mumbled.

  “He told me you were one of the finest cadets he’d ever had the pleasure to teach.” I took hold of his arm. “I want to believe that you’re still the same man I met that evening in August. The man I’ve come to respect and admire. What happened to you?”

  “Nothing you can help with.”

  “He’s worried about you.”

  “That’s very gratifying, but if he ever asks, you can tell him not to waste his time.” He shrugged my hand off, wheeled around, and stalked back down the hall.

  34

  Seth

  I was supposed to be not studying that night, but how could a man be expected to just sit by and do nothing when the girl of his dreams was being courted by a fellow like Campbell Conklin? And Deacon seemed glad to help me recount all the ways in which Campbell Conklin was a grind. “If she can’t see Conklin for what he is, that’s not my fault, is it?”

  “No.”

  “And if she’s too stubborn to admit that he’s arrogant and pompous, that’s not my fault either, is it?”

  He sketched something with a swirl of his pencil. “No.”

  “And if she couldn’t see what the rest of us did, up there at Fort Put, it’s not up to me to explain it to her, is it?”

  “No.” He held his drawing at arm’s length for a moment before taking it back to work on.

  “Then why can’t she just stay out of my way?”

  “She’s probably wondering why you can’t seem to stay out of hers.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours. And hers.” Putting a thumb to the page, he smudged his pencil lines.

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  “I am your friend. I’m just saying that it’s hard to take you seriously when you report to parade in your drawers.”

  “I’ll have you remember that was your brilliant idea, not mine!”

  “It was. It was brilliant. Best idea I’ve had in all the years I’ve been here!”

  “You aren’t helping.”

  “But I am helping. That’s what we’re all trying to do. We’re trying to help you.”

  “Then tell me why it is I care too much about old Conklin and his girl.”

  “Because she ought to be your girl—that’s why! Now, I like her as much as anybody—” He broke off when I glared at him. “Not as much as you, of course, but I think she’s real nice. And smart. And if I’m not mistaken, she’s going to open her eyes soon and see the same Campbell Conklin the rest of us do.”

  “None of the girls ever see the same Conklin the rest of us do. And haven’t you ever wondered why that is?”

  “Because some girls care more about dash than they do about substance.”

  “He’s not that dashing.”

  “But he’s got the scent of money on him. For some girls, that’s better than cologne.”

  I grunted. “If that’s why she wants him, then she’s not worth my time. Or effort.”

  “I think you’re in for a surprise. And soon.”

  I wasn’t planning on holding my breath.

  But I could have. The surprises came sooner than even Deacon had expected.

  On Monday, I got put down two sections in International Law. And in Civil Engineering, I got put down one.

  My former engineering instructor hadn’t asked to have a word with me in private. He didn’t plead with me to make more of an effort. He didn’t even appeal to my honor or sense of integrity, didn’t say anything about hoping to see me again soon. He simply bid me farewell and opened the door so that I could show myself to the next section down.

  That’s when it hit me: They truly thought I was a delinquent. My hands began to shake. A chill ran down my spine. It had happened. They believed me. I’d finally become the kind of cadet I’d been pretending so hard to be. I braced myself against the wall as I nodded at the cadet who was coming up from my new section to take my place in the old one.

  I wouldn’t be able to make it back from here. Not if the tide of opinion had truly turned against me. I hoped Deacon was right, that this really was the only choice. Otherwise, I’d ruined my grades, I’d given up Lucinda, and disappointed my professors for nothing.

  After closing my eyes and sending up a prayer, I walked into my new section. I hadn’t been with some of those fellows since the summer before my plebe year when we took entrance examinations together.

  I shook hands all around before class started. The section marcher announced the results of the morning’s roll call. The instructor glanced up from his desk and called five of
us to the board. “Mr. Westcott. Welcome. I’ve been expecting you.”

  That night, as Deacon was drinking from his flask, I asked him something I’d never asked him before. “Let me have a drink of that, will you?”

  His eyes blinked wide. “Why?”

  “I got pushed down a section today in engineering. And two in law.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” I held out a hand for his flask.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think you should be drinking.”

  “On today, of all days, you don’t want me to drink? You always ask me if I want to.”

  “Because I know you don’t. I was just being friendly.”

  “I need a drink.” I could practically taste it. I needed to taste it. I needed to turn myself into the shambling wreck of a man everyone else had decided I was.

  “You don’t need a drink. You just need to quit feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “You aren’t feeling sorry for me. Someone has to.”

  “Otter got another letter from his mother. Why don’t you head down there and see if he’ll read it to you.”

  “I don’t want to hear about his mother.”

  “I drew another girl in my book.” He held it up so I could see. “Want to take a look at it? All I need now is Venus.”

  “I don’t care about your girls.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.”

  “All I ever cared about was school. And my grades and class standing. And now they’re gone. I can’t ever get them back. Everything’s ruined.”

  “Well, that’s a hill of beans if I’ve ever heard one. You might have ruined your grades, but you’ve always cared about justice and decency and everything that’s good and right. Failing might have bruised your self-respect, but you’ve still got your honor, man!”

  “I don’t. I don’t have anything.”

  “You do, or I’m not Deacon Hollingsworth. Nobody can give you honor—just like they can’t take it from you. That’s why we all hate Campbell Conklin. You’ve got to carry honor around inside of you. If you can’t find it there, you’re never going to find it anywhere else.”