“Yes, sir.” She’d failed miserably in her quest to leave the camels behind. Now they were her only hope for survival.
“I’ll ride in front, to shield Ambrosia,” Bradley said.
“We both will. Just remember, speed and surprise are the keys.”
“But won’t they be able to just stand there and shoot us?” Maybe there wasn’t a choice, but Amber still wanted to make sure they’d thought of every outcome.
Her father smiled. “It’s hard to shoot straight when your horse spooks. Let’s go.”
They lined up facing the gunmen. The younger camels joined them, their heads swaying playfully as they tried to figure out the new game.
“That’s right,” Gunther called. “Turn yourselves in. We’ll treat you right nice.”
Bradley had never been so mad in his life.
“Walk toward him,” Captain Herald said. “Watch his horse.”
But what if the horse didn’t bolt? The Gunther gang had been following them ever since the Cherokee lodge. According to the captain, horses quickly became accustomed to the camels’ scent and appearance. Not only that, but these horses had already traveled a distance at a speed that surprised Bradley. Maybe they weren’t your everyday, run-of-the-mill horses.
The morning light spilled over the horizon. They had it at their back—thank God for small favors. And by the light, Bradley saw a most heartening sight. Pete Gunther’s horse. Except it wasn’t his horse at all. It wasn’t the paint that he’d been riding yesterday.
“Those are fresh horses.” Bradley kept his voice low. “That’s why they caught up with us.” He now knew the location of the gang’s hideout. And what was even better, these horses had never seen the camels before.
The new horse’s ears twitched as it tried to spot them in the sun. Even from this distance, Bradley could see its nostrils flare as it whiffed their unfamiliar scent. Gunther removed his hand from his gun holster to take up the reins. He was having trouble keeping his mount still. His brother said something from behind him. The others laughed, but then one of their horses started acting up, too. No longer were they focused on their approaching enemy. Instead, they were trying to calm their suddenly agitated horses.
“This is it,” Captain Herald said. “Run right at them.”
“Bust their line and keep going until you see the fort,” Bradley answered.
Camels weren’t as easy to spur as horses, since they tended to have a mind of their own, but they liked fun, and steaming ahead at a row of nervous horses must have been fun for the camels. If it weren’t for the guns the gang was carrying and the fact that he was protecting Ambrosia, it would’ve been fun for Bradley, too.
The camels’ trot smoothed into a gallop. Now they were flying. He looked once at Ambrosia. She’d lost her hat but was sticking in the saddle like an old hand.
The Gunthers weren’t as lucky. Two horses were galloping away despite their riders’ best efforts to hold them. One man was on the ground, and another was barely holding on as his mount pitched and bucked.
Bradley had looked forward to busting through their line, but by the time the camels breached their spot, there was no line left. Only wild-eyed horses doing their best to get away. Most of the gang realized their miscalculation, and seeing that they weren’t in a position to put up a fight with both their horses and the law, they made a run for it. Only the two Gunthers had a mind to stick it out and follow.
Bradley watched over his shoulder as they strong-armed their horses into submission. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered, but the Gunthers were all sorts of ignorant and spurred the horses after them.
Bradley had wondered what kinds of stunts he could do on a camel, and now he was fixing to find out. Throwing a leg over the hump and spinning around backward, he slid down Melda’s sloped withers and ducked below the high saddle. She didn’t seem to mind that he was riding backward and almost sitting on her neck. Maybe she understood that he was protecting their rear.
A bullet whizzed past before he heard the shot go off. The Gunthers weren’t messing around. He leveled his gun against the saddle and sighted it on Pete Gunther. As he was pulling the trigger, a ping sounded next to him, and Melda stumbled. His shot went high.
“Is she hit?” Amber called.
“Keep going,” he answered.
That had been the younger brother shooting at him. Bradley glanced down and saw water spurting from his canteen. He grinned. That piece of tin was the most useful item in his gear. First it had saved his life, and now his mount’s.
He drew Pete into his sights again and knew he wouldn’t miss this time. Bradley’s finger squeezed the trigger. Fire leapt from the barrel. Pete jarred, then slowly slid out of his saddle. His brother wheeled around, giving up the chase to help him.
Bradley felt like cheering. From here it was clear sailing to Fort Reno. In a couple hours, they’d be home.
Chapter
11
Heading northeast from the fort, a small band of troopers glided over the waving grasslands toward the Arapaho council meeting. Lieutenant Jack Hennessey was the representative for the cavalry, and while he expected the Arapaho meeting to go well, the troopers knew the Gunther gang was in the area. No one would travel alone until they were brought in.
“Sir,” Private Krebs called from behind him. “Someone is coming up fast on our right.”
Jack shaded his eyes. Was it one of their own, or someone looking for trouble? “Field glasses.” He held out his hand.
“Uh . . .” Sergeant Byrd kept the glasses to his face. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“That’s why I want the field glasses,” Jack said, prompting Byrd to finally hand them over.
It took his eyes a second to adjust. There was the cloud of dust and what looked like a group of five, perhaps. He thought he saw the blue of a cavalry uniform, so he focused on that rider, but then a bizarre face flashed across the lens. Jack lowered the glasses and squinted, then pulled the glasses up again. What was that? The riders were closer now, and he could tell there was something wrong with their horses. They were giant, with strange heads and absurdly long legs. The riders were sitting way up in the air, like balancing on a pile of saddle blankets, but one of them was turned around backward, shooting behind them.
There was only one cavalryman from Fort Reno who would try a stunt like that.
“Boys,” Jack said, “I don’t know what they’re doing, but that there is Private Willis, and he’s one of our own.”
“It’s Willis?” Word spread like wildfire along with shouts and cheers. “Let’s go!”
What would Major Adams say when he found out that his punitive assignment had added another chapter to the legend of Bradley Willis? Jack would insist on being the one to give the report.
Lieutenant Hennessey and his men came to the rescue. Bradley considered accompanying them to round up the rest of the Gunther gang, but the camel and horse trouble made it impossible. Besides, after all they’d been through, he wasn’t about to leave Ambrosia and Captain Herald now.
They reached Fort Reno safely, and when Ambrosia saw the stately houses on Officer’s Row, she immediately began to fret about being unpresentable, but Bradley thought she’d never looked better.
They soon found themselves standing at the door of Major Adams’s house with trail dust, sweat, and camel hair still pestering them. When the door opened, Bradley stood back to allow Captain Herald and Ambrosia to enter before him. He would salute his commander, but he was really watching for his sister. He couldn’t wait to introduce her to Amber. Meeting his cultured, refined sister would raise everyone’s opinion of him.
“Captain Herald, I’m delighted to have you at Fort Reno. And thanks for leaving your herd outside the campgrounds. I’d rather not make a shamble of our stables,” Major Adams said as the two men shook hands fondly.
“I’m only glad we were able to communicate with Lieutenant Hennessey before he and his men came too close. You have a fine co
mmand here, sir, and all of my dealings with your troops have been beneficial.”
Major Adams stared pointedly at Bradley. “All of them?”
Bradley glanced at Amber. She looked like she’d been through the ringer, but her smile was priceless.
Captain Herald laughed. “When I told you to send a headstrong young man who could endure my daughter’s sharp tongue, I never imagined you’d find someone who suited her so perfectly.”
Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“What?” Ambrosia asked. “I thought you sent for someone who knew Indian Territory.”
“What good is a guide if he doesn’t have the backbone to keep you in your place? You ran off all the cowboys.” Captain Herald turned to the major. “This is my dear daughter, the one we named after General Ambrose Burnside. In retrospect, Ulyssia would’ve been more appropriate.”
“Ambrose Burnside?” Bradley gawked at Amber. “The one with the, uh, very ambitious facial hair? That’s who you were named after? What happened to the food of the gods?”
“I prefer to put my own interpretation on the story.” She raised an eyebrow, daring him to contradict her.
“Maybe steak and taters aren’t enough, after all,” he said, making her smile while leaving the officers to wonder.
The danger of falling in love on a journey was that both parties were adrift in a foreign land. What if he looked heroic when he was the only man around besides one’s father? What if he was attentive there, but then completely ignored you when his friends arrived? So many unknowns.
But seeing Fort Reno, meeting Bradley’s charming sister—who seemed shocked to realize that Bradley’s infatuation was reciprocated—and watching his peers welcome him home and congratulate him on his success only increased Amber’s appreciation of the brave man who’d gotten her safely through the journey. But they weren’t home yet, and that was her concern.
It wasn’t long before that concern was addressed. Over dinner that night with the major, Bradley’s sister, Louisa, brought up the subject in her gracious manner.
“Bradley, I’m so glad you’re back.” Louisa’s clothes were very fine for a governess. Even though Ambrosia had bathed and donned something clean, she still felt underdressed. “After all you’ve been through, I imagine that Major Adams would consider sending someone else to help the Heralds finish their journey.”
The look exchanged between Louisa and the major confirmed what Bradley had said about their relationship.
“Yes, I’ve talked that over with Captain Herald and offered him another escort,” Major Adams said. “He has generously decided to allow Bradley to stay here rather than continue on with him and Miss Herald. As far as I’m concerned, Bradley has passed the test. This mission has been completed satisfactorily.”
Ambrosia felt hope draining away. A summer romance? Was that all she was? Across the table, Bradley avoided looking at her. She raised her chin. Fine. She could do without him. He’d risked his life for her. He deserved a civil good-bye.
Conversation continued, with the major asking a hundred questions about the camels and Louisa inquiring after lodging for the night. Ambrosia’s father had just promised to take them both on a camel ride when Bradley blurted out, “Excuse me, sir, but I think I’ll go to Texas.”
Her father paused, not accustomed to being interrupted. Major Adams looked at Louisa and shook his head, as if unsurprised by his outburst. “Allow the captain to finish, Private Willis.”
But Bradley didn’t wait. “I’ll go with him. I want to go with him. I want to see the mission completed.”
Beneath the table, Ambrosia wadded her gown in her fist. “Is your mission that important to you?”
The light from the silver candelabra reflected in Bradley’s eyes. His jaw was freshly shaven, his hair shiny and clean. “It is,” he said, “and I intend to see it completed.”
“What if I catch the stagecoach and ride it home? Would you still be as determined to escort the camels?” she asked.
Bradley frowned, and Major Adams cleared his throat. Ambrosia tried to smooth the wrinkle she was making in her skirt. It occurred to her that she might sound combative at this fine table where everyone was being so gracious.
Realizing that something was wrong, Louisa intervened. “Captain Herald, does your daughter play chess?” she asked.
“Ambrosia? No, not at all. Why—”
“There’s a lovely chess set in the major’s office. Bradley, do be a dear and take Miss Herald to see it. I think she’ll be impressed.”
Bradley stood. “With her father’s permission?”
Captain Herald drummed his fingers against the white tablecloth. “I suppose she’ll come to no harm in the major’s office.”
“If I can take care of her while facing the Gunther gang—”
“Bradley,” his sister warned, “don’t push your luck.”
Ambrosia waited for him to come and pull out her chair. After nearly a week of cooking on a campfire and sleeping on the ground, she wanted to feel like a lady, even if she was out of sorts. He led her to an office with French doors overlooking the parade grounds, but he didn’t bother showing her the chess set.
Instead, he took her in his arms. Her gown crushed against his spotless blue uniform.
“What’s this about you catching a stagecoach? I thought you were going to stay with your pa.”
Amber shrugged “That depends. Are you going because you were forced on this mission or because you want to be with me?”
“You heard the major. No one is forcing me to go. I’m doing it because that’s what I want.”
“And after that?” She busied herself with twisting a brass button on his coat. Why was she pushing him so hard? She didn’t like how she was acting, but she was scared. More scared than she’d been with the outlaws. She was afraid that she’d misunderstood, that she’d grown to love someone who didn’t love her back.
His breathing was slow and even, while hers felt rapid and strained. He clasped his hands behind her and let her lean back in his arms.
“After I take you home, I’ll have a day or so before I head back to the fort. In that time, I want to meet your mother and spend some time with your father when he’s not being Captain Herald. If there’s any other family I need to impress, I’ll leave it up to you to introduce us.”
His words soothed her. The fear was diminishing. “But then you’ll leave. I might not see you again.”
“I’m commissioned to the army for three more years, but Garber is only a couple of days away. Every leave I get, every time I’m near the border, I’ll come calling. And perhaps you could come visit my sister on occasion.”
“Then you don’t regret it?”
“What? Our time together?” With a gentle tug on her chin, he raised her face to his. “Three years, Ambrosia. I’ve got a lot of growing up to do, but I’ll do it knowing that you’re waiting for me.”
She stretched her arms up around his neck. She reckoned that she needed a few more years, too. “Just don’t outgrow me,” she said.
And he promised.
Together they’d finish this journey to fulfill her father’s dream, and then would come the test. But sometimes courage meant sticking to your post, shoulder to shoulder with your partner, and sometimes courage was facing the battle alone. As long as they knew they were on the same team and committed to each other, they could make it despite the distance, the years, . . . and the camels.
Keep reading for a special sample of The Lieutenant’s Bargain by Regina Jennings.
Excerpt from The Lieutenant’s Bargain
Chapter
1
INDIAN TERRITORY
DECEMBER 1885
If she’d known there were so few washrooms in Indian Territory, Hattie Walker wouldn’t have downed three cups of coffee at breakfast that morning. The stagecoach jolted over another rut on the cold plains as she pulled the lap robe higher on her chest. She didn’t favor getting out of the cozy co
ach and into the sharp wind, but nature called.
Hattie lifted the heavy leather curtain on the window and blinked as a cold gust caught her right in the face.
“For crying aloud, what do you want now?” Mr. Samuel Sloane, a telegraph operator who’d been on the stage since Fort Smith, had complained every time she’d requested a stop. And she’d requested many stops.
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” Hattie replied. “Continue polishing that big pocket watch and pay me no mind.”
The pocket watch had caught her eye, but his cutting remarks offset his fine duds, so Hattie wasn’t impressed. Besides, she hadn’t left behind agreeable beaux back home to fall for a churlish lout on the road.
“Next stage I catch, I’m requesting a gentleman’s-only coach,” replied the tired, dried-up Agent Gibson. “A woman traveling across Indian Territory unchaperoned is folly. Better to stay home in the kitchen than out here in the nations risking your life.” Then, despite the apparent danger, he pulled his big-brimmed hat down over his face to nap against the heavy traveling bag he’d insisted on keeping in the seat next to him.
Hattie had yet to meet the man whose kitchen sounded more interesting than her plans. She steadied her Reeves box of watercolors and Devoe oils and prayed that she’d made the right decision. Frustrated by her refusal to accept any of the proposals that had come her way, her parents had given her an ultimatum—go to Denver and find success as an artist, or come home and settle down. They feared she was wasting the best years of her life pursuing an unlikely future. When she bemoaned the limited resources available to her in Van Buren, Arkansas, they’d called her bluff. Two months. That was all she had. Get a painting in an exhibit, sell a work, or come back home and plan for her future.
It had been a terrifying answer to prayer, and now Hattie was traveling with strangers across one of the most dangerous areas of the country, wondering if she’d made the right choice. Wondering if the stories about the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians were true. But she was on her way to the majestic Rocky Mountains, and in three weeks she wanted to have a painting ready for consideration in the Denver Exhibition. It was too late to turn back now.
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