“Goodness gracious, I was just trying to be helpful, since you’re just getting out of the hospital, and anyway, that’s what enlisted men are for, to look after officers.”
He hadn’t realized Olivia was so snobbish. Colt dismissed the private and helped Olivia mount up, then tied her picnic basket behind her saddle.
He wasn’t looking forward to this ride at all, and now he realized the reason why. He was falling in love with Hannah, a married woman whose husband should be coming for her any day now. He must wipe the blonde from his mind.
“Darling, you’re awfully quiet,” Olivia said as he mounted up.
“Am I? Just have a lot on my mind, I reckon. Let’s ride to the river.”
“That will be nice. I brought cold roast beef, some chocolate cake, and homemade bread and pickles. Oh, and I tucked in a cold bottle of wine.”
“That will be wonderful.” He forced himself to turn in his saddle and smile at her as they nudged their horses into a walk.
Olivia prattled on and on about getting the latest fashion magazine in the post from New York City, how one just couldn’t find good fabric or a dressmaker here, and on and on and on.
Had she always talked so much? She didn’t seem to even be taking a breath, and he wondered if he could ever get a word in edgewise if he wanted to. She had a high-pitched voice that scraped across his nerves, but her constant prattle kept him from having to keep up a conversation.
In his mind, he heard Hannah’s soft, low voice telling him not to come again and they both knew why. He realized that she had felt the same breathless attraction he had felt, and he knew somehow that he could have swung her up in his arms, carried her into her bedroom, and taken her with all the lust and need he felt. Yes, he must stay away from Hannah.
“So what do you think?” Olivia looked over at him as they rode.
He managed a smile. “About what, dear?”
“About the wedding. Should we have it in Washington, D.C., or Philadelphia?”
He blinked. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.” She looked annoyed. “Now it all depends on whether you stay in the army or not, as to whether you wear a dress uniform or I have Uncle Walt’s tailor make you a fine broadcloth suit.”
“I haven’t given it much thought.” He sighed and looked ahead toward the river. This was going to be a long afternoon.
“Goodness gracious, Mama will want to know soon. Putting on a giant wedding takes almost a year of planning, you know.”
He looked at her, puzzled. “Why would it take a year? Most folks just step up in front of a parson and it’s done. Then there’s maybe a little cake and punch—”
“You aren’t serious?” She looked at him as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or burst into tears.
He didn’t want to fuss with her so he just shrugged. “I don’t know anything about plannin’ weddin’s, Olivia. Most men don’t. I reckon I’ll just leave that up to you.”
She smiled triumphantly. “Good. I’ve been looking at all the copies I have of Godey’s Lady’s Book, but of course they are old, and probably out of style and who knows where one can buy real French lace around here, so I’ll have Mama send to Paris and—”
Colt disappeared back into his own thoughts. In his mind, he had stepped forward in that little shack and taken Hannah into his arms and kissed her, really kissed her.
“We’re here,” Olivia announced, taking a breath from prattling on and on about French lace and wedding cakes.
Colt came out of his thoughts with a start. “Of course.” He reined in, stepped down, and came around to help Olivia from her horse. She looked up at him as if she expected him to steal a kiss, but he had no desire to kiss that perfect mouth. Instead, he began to untie the picnic basket.
“I brought a blanket, too,” she said and walked ahead of him to the placid river under the shade of the big live oak trees.
“I’ve got it.” He followed her with the blanket and the basket as she picked a spot. He spread the blanket and sat down while she dug into the basket.
“Darling, would you like some wine?”
He nodded. He needed a little courage for what he was about to do. He must be out of his mind. Every officer on the post considered the major’s daughter a catch, and they all wanted to marry her, she was so beautiful.
“Now,” she said and handed him a glass of wine. “The reason I need to know whether you are staying in the service or not is I thought a military wedding would be lovely, and if we had it in Washington, Mama could invite all sorts of important people—why, maybe even the president.”
“The president?” Colt sipped the wine. It was a dark red burgundy and delicious.
“Of course, silly.” She smiled at him. “You know, if there is a war, and everyone says there will be, you’ll be right there, knowing all the best people, and you’ll get promoted fast, not like Daddy, who insists on staying out on the frontier where the upper echelon has forgotten all about him and he’ll never get past major.”
He was beginning to understand why the major drank, he thought, if Olivia’s mother was anything like her daughter.
“Washington? You’d want to live in Washington?” Such a thing had never entered his mind.
“If you stay in the service”—she nodded—”you’d rise fast, maybe even to general and there’d be all sorts of cotillions and balls to attend. You’d be so handsome with all that gold braid and medals on your chest.”
He looked at her, thinking she was more shallow and petty than he had realized. “Olivia, if there’s a war, it will be horrible—men killed, towns sacked and burned, children left fatherless—”
“Oh, but we’ll be in Washington and you won’t have to take part in any of that.” She laid out tiny beef sandwiches on pretty flowered plates.
“Suppose I don’t want to reenlist?” he asked and poured himself another glass of wine.
“Oh, that’s all right, too, darling.” She handed him a plate with a hand that was so perfectly manicured.
“Olivia, do you know how to iron?” He said it without thinking.
“Iron? Iron what?” She looked baffled.
“Clothes. Have you ever ironed a shirt in your life?” In his mind, he saw Hannah, perspiration on her tanned forehead as she labored over a shirt.
“Are you joking, Colton, dear? Of course I don’t know how to iron or do laundry or any of those mundane things. I have servants to do things like that. Now, I can speak French and do watercolor paintings and play the spinet.”
“None of those seem too practical on the Texas frontier,” he said and picked up a sandwich.
“Texas?” She wrinkled her nose. “Goodness gracious, I can hardly wait to leave here. I thought it would be interesting, but it’s just a big prairie with wild horses and hostile Indians.”
“Texans love the Lone Star State,” he said and poured himself another glass of wine. “They wouldn’t live any place else.”
She laughed. “I love it when you joke, Colton, dear. I thought if you didn’t reenlist, Uncle Ned, Mama’s brother, would find a good spot for you in one of the family businesses. We could live in the best part of town and you’d work in an office and go to the club with Mama’s brothers. Just think how business will boom if a war starts. We manufacture iron and steel, you know.”
“For cannons and guns?” He looked at her. She was so beautiful, such pale skin that had never been out toiling in the hot sun, such soft hands that had never done a minute’s work in her whole life. He saw her as she really was: a doll, a beautiful fashion doll with no brains and no interests except clothes and high society.
“It’s too bad you didn’t go to West Point,” Olivia sighed, “but no one needs to know that. You know, Mama’s father got Daddy into West Point, but he never really fit into their family.”
“I’m afraid I won’t either,” Colt said and ate his sandwich, understanding now why the major stayed out on the frontier.
“Oh, but of c
ourse you will, silly. When we go back East, I’ll hire someone to teach you etiquette and how to dress and we’ll join the best clubs. Uncle Ned can use his influence to—”
“You got this all thought out without ever once consultin’ me?” He was growing angry.
“Well, it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t go along with—”
“Olivia.” He tried to keep his voice from rising. “Texas men are used to making decisions. You should have asked me what I thought. Whether I stay in the army or not, I never intend to leave Texas. I love it here.”
“What? Why? Why would you even consider staying in a rough, uncivilized state?” Her big brown eyes had turned an angry dark.
“Because maybe I’m a rough, uncivilized Texan,” he fired back. “You know, Olivia, I think maybe we need to end this engagement. Maybe we aren’t right for each other.”
She was huffing with indignation. “How dare you? Why, everyone wants to marry me, and I chose you—”
“I’m sorry, Olivia, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think we’re suited to each other at all.”
Out came the lace hankie and the big tears. “Boo hooo, what will people say? I’ll be humiliated.”
“I will be a gentleman,” he assured her. “I will tell everyone you broke the engagement because you decided I was an uncivilized lout and not up to your high standards.”
She was sobbing into her hankie. Colt felt like a terrible villain for breaking her heart, and yet he had a sudden feeling of freedom and relief. Sometimes a man ought to look beyond a beautiful face.
Abruptly he heard the sound of a galloping horse and grabbed for his pistol. But it was a blue uniform in a light buggy rattling over the horizon from the direction of the fort.
The private reined in, got down, and saluted. “Sir. Miss Murphy. Sorry to disturb your picnic, Lieutenant, but Major Murphy wants you back at the fort.”
Colt stood up and saluted, feeling relief. Any excuse was a good one to leave this awkward scene. “What is it, Private?”
“There’s a man in the major’s office, and the major thinks you need to come right now.”
Olivia was already gathering up the picnic stuff and blanket.
Colt was mystified. “A man? Who—?”
“His name is Luther Brownley and he’s here about his wife.”
Colt’s heart fell. Somehow he’d hoped Hannah’s husband would never show up. “Private, would you help Miss Murphy gather up our picnic things so I can get back right away?”
“Yes, sir.”
And with that, Colt mounted up, lashed his horse into a gallop, and headed for the fort.
Chapter 11
Colt galloped back to the fort. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to do when he got there. Maybe he was only curious to see the man Hannah had married, or maybe he wanted to stop Luther from taking her, which, of course, was not his business. He only knew he wanted to be there for Hannah when she faced her husband again.
He rode up to the major’s office, dismounted, and handed the horse’s reins to a private. “I don’t think I’ll be here long,” he said as he paused at the major’s door.
There was a fancy buggy tied up at the hitching rail. Strange, he’d thought the man would be some poor farmer. He squared his shoulders and walked in.
The major looked relieved. “Oh, there you are, Lieutenant. This is Luther Brownley.”
The lanky man stood up. He was well dressed, but looked like a farmer, red neck and tanned face. His beard was straggly and gray-streaked. He offered his hand, nodded, and said, “Howdy do?” and Colt could see his teeth were stained with chewing tobacco.
Colt shook his callused hand. “Good to meet you.” But he wasn’t glad to meet him at all. This well-dressed cracker was coming to take Hannah away.
The major motioned Colt to a chair. “I was just telling Mr. Brownley that you were the man who rescued his wife.”
“Well, thank you kindly,” Brownley said with no show of emotion. “She’s been gone most four years now.”
“Drink, gentlemen?” The major got out the bottle and tumblers.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Brownley grinned and took a glass, settled down in his chair.
Colt took a glass, but didn’t taste it. What was wrong with this man? If Hannah had been Colt’s long-lost wife, he would have wanted to see her immediately.
They drank, but the atmosphere seemed strained.
“So you’ve come to take Hannah home?” Colt asked finally, trying to understand this man.
“Not prezactly,” the other man said and drank his whiskey. “I was real surprised when the message came; I gave her up for dead a few months after she was carried off.”
“The major said it was hard to track you down, Mr. Brownley, being as how you had moved to another county,” Colt said.
Brownley grinned with his uneven, brown teeth. “Got a new, big farm now and a fancy house.”
Colt fiddled with his whiskey tumbler in the strained atmosphere. Finally he couldn’t stand the man’s lack of interest anymore. “Aren’t you wantin’ to know how she’s doin’ and what happened and see her?”
The other man frowned and reached in his jacket for a twist of chewing tobacco. “I reckon she’s all right, alive, at least, and I can guess what them savages did to her.” He frowned and Colt didn’t know what to say.
The major twisted in his chair. “Lieutenant, would you take Mr. Brownley down to her cabin so they can talk?”
Colt frowned. “Does she know he’s here?”
The major shook his head and didn’t meet Colt’s gaze. “I thought it might be a shock since they haven’t seen each other in so long. I thought maybe you’d show him the way.”
“Certainly.” Colt put down his untasted drink and stood up. There were a million things he’d rather do than take Luther Brownley down to be reunited with Hannah, but he reminded himself that, after all, she was married to this man, and he had every right to claim her.
The lanky man put down his empty glass and stood up. “Well, much obliged, Major Murphy. I thank you for whatever you’ve done for her.”
The major shrugged. “All we did was rescue her. She’s been through quite an ordeal, Mr. Brownley. You may have to be patient with her until she gets back to normal.”
For the first time, the farmer looked a little disturbed. “She ain’t loco, is she?”
“No,” Colt said, “she’s fine, but she needs gentle treatment for a long time.”
“Humph,” said Brownley and he followed Colt out the door.
Colt already didn’t like the man. It wasn’t just because he’d come to take Hannah away; it was his uncaring attitude.
Brownley gestured toward the fancy rig as he untied the horse. “Hop in and I’ll drive us.”
“Very nice,” Colt complimented as he got in and Brownley got up on the seat beside him.
“Ain’t it though? Emma bought it for me, new clothes, too.”
Colt didn’t have any idea who “Emma” might be, but he didn’t ask. “Just drive down the length of these buildings and we’ll be at Suds Row.”
Brownley looked sideways at him as they pulled away, the fine gray horse stepping smartly. “Where?”
“Suds Row. It’s where the ladies who do laundry for the soldiers live. Hannah has been there, makin’ her way ironin’ and washin’ for the troops. Before that, she was helpin’ around the infirmary.”
“She always was a hardworkin’ gal,” Brownley said with no show of emotion. “Good cook, too, but stubborn and too high-spirited to be a good wife.”
“High spirits is good in a woman,” Colt defended her.
“Maybe in a horse, but not in a wife.” Luther spat tobacco juice to one side as he drove.
Colt didn’t reply, wondering if Brownley knew about little Travis. He had a sinking feeling that the major hadn’t had the courage to tell Brownley about the half-breed child.
“Stop right in front of that third one,” Colt instructed
.
People were coming out of their quarters to watch, staring at the fine buggy as it went by. Evidently word had spread quickly that the Comanche captive’s husband had finally come to retrieve her. Colt wished they’d all go back inside, but there wasn’t that much daily excitement around the fort and this promised to be an interesting little drama for the curious.
Brownley reined in and said, “Wal, I’ll just get down and go in. Has anyone told her I was comin’?”
Colt shook his head, wishing now he had a chance to tell her. She needed time to comb her hair and fix up some, put on her best dress that Olivia had given her. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seemed very enthused when she’d first been rescued and he had told her they would try to find her husband. Maybe she thought he was killed in that Comanche raid.
He had a sudden feeling that he needed to be there. “I’ll come in,” he said abruptly and got out of the buggy as Brownley tied up the horse.
“No need.” The lanky farmer frowned at him. “I don’t aim to be here long.”
“She’ll have to have time to pack her few things,” Colt answered and followed him up on the porch.
It was a warm day and the door was open.
Colt knocked on the doorjamb. “Mrs. Brownley? Are you home?”
“Colt?” He heard her call from deeper inside the house. “Come on in. I’m trying to get some shirts finished.”
Brownley looked at him and grinned knowingly. “So that’s how it is.”
“No.” Colt gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch that tobacco-stained mouth. “She’s a very moral woman and she’s been through a lot. You’re a lucky man, Mr. Brownley.”
The other man didn’t answer as they went into the tiny front room. Colt was relieved not to see Travis. The toddler must be in the back room with his mother. He didn’t know what Brownley would think about the child. After all, it hadn’t been Hannah’s fault that she’d been raped by Spider.
Suddenly Colt would rather have been anyplace but here. He heard Hannah’s small feet coming from the back. “Hello, Colt, I hope you didn’t come for your shirts—”
Colt Page 15
