He tried to take her hand, but Jennifer pulled hers away, wondering how she could have been so foolish as to write to a stranger and offer to be his wife. After being with Wade, she could not imagine letting this man touch her, even if he were decent, which she sensed he was not. She realized that for now she had to keep him at bay and let him think she was still interested, like Wade had told her. If she turned him down too quickly, he might suspect something, and he seemed to be suspicious enough as it was.
“Well, I am very glad to be found. I must admit I was frightened having to travel with Mr. Morrow. He is not exactly the one I would have picked. I have no great fondness for men of Indian blood, Mr. Enders,” she said rather haughtily, “especially after what happened to the coach and all those poor men with whom I had been traveling. It was so horrible.” She let her eyes tear, which was easy to do. “I just want to get to the fort and rest, Mr. Enders. Is there a woman there with whom I can stay while I heal?”
“Yes, ma’am, a Mrs. Hart. She’s a widow woman. She’ll take care of you.” He frowned, putting a hand to her hair to look at the healing cut along her forehead. She hated the touch but said nothing. “What the hell? Did they try to scalp you?”
“Yes. They stopped when they saw Mr. Morrow.”
He shook his head. “You’re a lucky woman, Miss Andrews.” He glanced up at Wade, whose back was to him. “You’re even luckier that Mr. Morrow turned out to be an honorable man. Most breeds are worse than their full-blood brothers, believe me.”
Jennifer did not respond to the remark, but she knew Wade must have heard it, and she ached for him. Enders rose and mounted his horse. “Let’s go,” he yelled out. “You ride easy there, Morrow. That’s my future wife you’re hauling.”
Wade said nothing, but Jennifer knew what he must be thinking, and she prayed there would be no trouble.
Chapter Seventeen
Jennifer felt everyone staring at her for the rest of the journey, and was grateful they were only a few hours from the fort. She felt like a sideshow, Sergeant Enders riding right beside her, sitting in a cocky pose, trying to make an impression on her with his authority over the other men. She wondered if it was just because she cared so much for Wade that she found herself disliking Enders, or if she would have felt the same way meeting him for the first time, even without already loving someone else.
She reasoned she would probably feel about the same. No matter how attentive the sergeant tried to be, there was something about him that did not ring true. Perhaps if she were the same naive Jennifer who first left St. Louis, she would be more impressed with the man; but now she could not help wondering if he could be one of those who had volunteered for duty out here because he was hiding from the law.
She argued with herself that it was wrong to be so suspicious, and she reminded herself that the poor sergeant had been waiting excitedly for weeks for her to come to him. It wasn’t his fault that he must think she should have eyes only for him, that once she was healed she would agree to marry him. She had to let him think that for now, to keep his thoughts off Wade, and to keep him at bay until Wade could come for her.
“You’ll be well taken care of at the fort, Jennifer. Do you mind if I call you Jennifer? Considering the reason you came out here, I should think we can at least call each other by our first names. You can call me Tony.”
Jennifer wondered what must be going through Wade’s mind. He said nothing, but she knew he would like nothing better than to knock Sergeant Enders from his mount and declare his love for her.
“Call me Jennifer if you like,” she answered. “But it will take me a little while to call you by your first name, Sergeant Enders.”
His eyes lingered on her strangely, and she pulled the blanket to her neck, wincing when the travois bounced over a rock.
“I have to say, Jennifer, that you’re even prettier than your picture. If you’re this pretty after what you’ve been through, you must be very beautiful when you’re up and well.”
She wished he would stop looking at her, wished the soldiers riding behind the travois would also stop staring. “Thank you, Sergeant Enders,” she answered.
“Fort’s in sight, Sergeant,” Deaver said then.
Enders rode up beside Wade. “You mind yourself, mister, till my commanding officer talks with you. I’m still not convinced you didn’t have something to do with that raid.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Wade answered with disgust. “My story is the same as Miss Andrews’s. You calling your bride-to-be a liar?”
“No. I’m only saying maybe it was all planned, but that you called off those Comanche wolves because of the woman. Maybe you had intentions for her yourself, except that she got hurt, and you had just enough feelings for her that it bothered you. I know how men like you pant after white women.”
Wade halted the horse, and Jennifer’s heart raced with worry for him. “If you weren’t such an ignorant fool, mister, and if you didn’t have all those men there to back you up, I’d show you what men like me can do to men like you. My father’s supply business happens to have a contract with the government to supply you bastards with food and other necessities. One more insult from you, and there’s going to be a problem that will be pinpointed directly to you and your commanding officer. I don’t think you want to answer for that, or to show your new wife what an irresponsible fool you are. The fact that that woman is alive is proof enough of my side of this mess.”
Wade started riding again, and Jennifer suppressed a smile. Enders rode on ahead and didn’t say another word. Minutes later she spotted some buildings and heard someone shouting marching orders. A dog barked and someone yelled that Enders was back with an Indian man dragging a travois with a white woman on it. Men gathered and stared, few of them looking as spiffy and regimented as Jennifer had imagined. She felt like pulling the blanket completely over her face so they would stop staring.
“Somebody get Alice,” Enders was ordering. “A couple of you men untie that travois and unload it except for the lady. Carry it over to Alice’s place and tell Alice to do whatever she can for Miss Andrews. I’m taking Morrow to Captain Howell.”
Men began unloading the travois, and then Jennifer saw Wade bending over her. “Get away from the woman and come with me, Morrow,” Enders was saying.
“I have a right to get my tobacco. I need a smoke,” Wade answered, his eyes on Jennifer. She knew it was only an excuse for one last look. Oh, what pain it was not to reach up and hug him, not to feel his lips on hers one more time, not to be able to tell him she loved him, to tell him goodbye. He gave her a soft smile, and she ached to be able to help him bandage his arm and wash the cut on his face where he had been kicked. No, right now she couldn’t like Sergeant Enders one tiny bit.
“I’m all right,” he told her quietly as he took a tobacco pouch from his gear. He understood her concern. “Remember what I told you.” He left her then, and she watched him walk away, her heart aching with love. She prayed he wouldn’t come across any serious trouble with the commander.
Moments later men were lifting the travois and carrying her. A neat, whitewashed cabin came into sight, and a stout, graying woman was hurrying toward her. “Oh, you poor child,” the woman was saying. “Take her inside and put her on the bed. A couple of you bring over an extra cot. I’ll use that while she’s mending. My bed is much more comfortable than those army cots.”
“Yes, ma’am,” someone answered. Others carried her inside and held the travois near the bed while Jennifer managed to move herself from it to the bed.
“You men get out of here now,” the woman ordered. “This poor girl needs a bath and a good rest.”
The men fumbled with good-byes and last stares, one of them muttering about what a “lucky bastard” Sergeant Enders was. Jennifer looked around the small cabin, which consisted of just two rooms, one large one that contained a wood-burning, potbelly stove, a sewing machine, a small fireplace with the painting of a pretty young woman hanging over i
t as well as an army sword and hat with a feathered plume in it. There was also a frayed pink velvet loveseat near the fireplace, as well as a high-back, stuffed chair, a table and two wooden chairs, and a wooden rocker. The room was not very big, and the furniture took up most of the space; yet everything looked neat and tidy, and there were braided rugs on the swept wooden floor. A wardrobe stood in one corner, and a man’s shaving table in another, although it was closed and was decorated with a small cactus plant. She couldn’t see into the other room, except that she could see a pantry and realized it was the kitchen.
“I’m Alice Hart,” the woman said then, coming to her side. “And you must be Jennifer Andrews, the woman Sergeant Enders has been waiting for.”
Jennifer took a good look at the woman for the first time, seeing lines of age and experience, but kind, blue eyes. Her hair was pinned into a bun, but a few strands hung loose, as though she had had a busy day. Her dress was a plain black cotton, and she wore a white apron.
“Yes,” Jennifer answered. I don’t want to be here, she felt like screaming. I just want to go away with Wade Morrow.
“Whatever happened, child!” The woman put a hand to her forehead, studying the still-healing cut there. Jennifer explained the raid and how Wade Morrow had saved her life. “I know he’s part Indian, and people around here hate men like him, but he saved my life not just from the Comanche but from infection, too. Sergeant Enders and the others treated him terribly. They won’t bring him more harm, will they, Mrs. Hart?”
The woman folded her arms, studying Jennifer closely. “I don’t expect so, but that’s not for you to worry about any more. You’re here and you’re safe, and when you’re healed you can get to know Sergeant Enders. When the preacher comes back by the first of next month, we’ll have us a wedding. Right now let’s get you bathed. I’ll take a look at that leg myself and put some clean bandages on it.”
Jennifer felt self-conscious, even though Alice Hart was a woman. She didn’t like imposing on strangers. How she wished it could be Wade who bathed her, Wade who changed her bandages, Wade who could sleep with her tonight in this bed.
Alice walked outside, telling Jennifer she would put a kettle of water over a fire she had going outside. “Too hot to be lighting the wood stove or the fireplace,” she called out. “You get undressed.”
Jennifer sat up, wishing she knew what was happening to Wade, wondering if she would get to see him at all before he left. She began unbuttoning her dress. “What about your husband?” she asked Alice when the woman returned. “He might come home—” She vaguely remembered then that Sergeant Enders had said something about Mrs. Hart being a widow, and she reddened at realizing her error.
“My husband is dead,” the woman was already saying. “He was killed three years ago by the Comanche. He was one of the first men picked by the colonel who originally ran this fort. The colonel was commissioned personally by Jefferson Davis, so my husband was among the first to come to Texas as part of the cavalry Davis personally trained and sent here to fight the Comanche. Those were fine men, not the riffraff you see here now. All the best men have been sent back East because of the trouble there. A lot of them were Southern boys, who left to join the Confederate cause.”
She walked into the kitchen, returning with a huge tin tub that seemed too big for her to carry. She set it down in front of the fireplace and looked up at the picture and sword that hung there. “My husband would be on the side of the Union if he were still alive, even though we were from Tennessee. He wouldn’t want to see this country divide itself.” She sighed. “That’s his sword up there,” she said with a note of melancholy. “He was a fine, brave man; killed by the Comanche.” The last words were repeated bitterly, and Jennifer wondered if the woman hated the Indians as much as most of the soldiers seemed to hate them. It made her feel more lonely and out of place. How could she ever hope to share her feelings for Wade with such a woman?
Alice sighed deeply. “I’ve stayed on here at the fort to be near my husband’s grave,” she added. “I do laundry and mending for the other men to earn my keep. I just can’t bring myself to leave.”
“Who is the girl in the painting?” Jennifer asked cautiously.
Alice turned, tears in her eyes. “She was our daughter. She died ten years ago of pneumonia. She was only sixteen.” She walked closer to Jennifer. “That’s part of the reason I don’t mind having you here at all, Miss Andrews. You remind me of our daughter, and I’m happy to tend to you.”
The remark made Jennifer feel a little more welcome. “Please call me Jenny,” she answered. “And I’m really sorry to put you out this way.”
“It’s no bother at all.” The woman finally smiled a genuinely warm smile. “In fact, it’s a joy having another woman around. I’m glad Sergeant Enders has two years to go before he can leave here.” She sat down on the bed beside her. “You just remember that you don’t have to marry that man, Jenny,” she said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve been through so much, and I’m sure this place is nothing like you pictured it. Don’t throw yourself into marriage with a near stranger unless you’re really sure about it. God knows the ordeal you have been through is excuse enough to wait a while.”
Jennifer met her eyes. “Don’t you like the sergeant?”
A look of disgust moved into the woman’s eyes. “It’s probably not my place to say—not right now anyway. He’s certainly not the soldier my husband was. Not many of the men here are. But I suppose it’s up to you to decide. It’s not my business. You give yourself some time to get to know him, then we’ll talk about it some more.”
The woman rose to go back outside and see how the water was doing. Jennifer turned, trying to see through lace curtains toward a building where Wade had been taken. A few soldiers milled about, and she felt a knot in her stomach. How she wished he could come to her, or that she could be over there with him. She should be there, she reasoned, to verify his story and stand up for him. How she hated all this pretending.
She finished unbuttoning her dress, remembering when she had let Wade do it, remembering the feel of his hands at her breasts, his lips covering her own; remembering the strength of his arms, the comfort of his words of love, the ecstasy of taking him inside herself. Maybe she would never know those things again.
The thought, added to the realization she would have to put up with Enders for the next few weeks, brought a rush of tears to her aching, battered body and soul. She turned and nearly collapsed onto the bed, and Alice returned to find her sobbing into a pillow. The woman’s heart ached for her, realizing her loneliness, the fear and shock she must have suffered and still be suffering, let alone her pain. She thought she understood all the reasons for Jennifer Andrews’s pitiful tears, never suspecting she was really weeping for Wade Morrow.
Wade sat in Captain Howell’s office, his big frame seeming to fill the room. First Lieutenant Michael Brown, a slender, blond-haired man who appeared only to be in his twenties, stood in one corner watching the questioning closely, rifle in hand. Sergeant Enders leaned against a wall watching, arms folded, a sneering look in his eyes.
Captain Howell sat behind his desk, studying Wade. Wade guessed the man was no more than thirty, but his thin, reddish hair was already receding. A neatly-trimmed, red beard covered his round face, and his pale blue eyes studied Wade intently.
“The resemblance is astounding,” Howell told Wade then. “You can’t blame us for holding you for a few questions, Mr. Morrow. If you didn’t speak such good English and know so much about San Diego and your father’s business and all, it would be hard to believe you weren’t Wild Horse. But then Wild Horse can’t speak English, and he wouldn’t come near an army fort.”
His eyes moved over Wade suspiciously. “I’ll question Miss Andrews before you leave. If she verifies you didn’t offend her in any way, you’re free to go.”
Wade glowered at the man. “If this was a white man sitting in this chair, you wouldn’t think you had to veri
fy his story. Fact is, Captain, she was probably a lot safer with me than she would have been with most white men I know. The woman has been through quite an ordeal. If you insist on questioning her, go easy on her, and don’t embarrass her.”
“Why did it take you so long to get here?” Enders asked. “Seems to me like you could have made it in a couple of days.”
Wade turned his blue eyes to the man, giving Enders a chill at the look of murder in them. “I told you she got a bad infection. I had to burn it out. We lost a whole day just waiting until she was well enough to be moved again. Then the sandstorm held us up for another day.”
“And how did you protect yourselves from the sandstorm?”
Wade knew what he was after, and he was not about to give Enders one inch of room toward suggesting something went on between himself and Jennifer. “I dragged the travois up against a rock formation where most of the sand blew over us. It was the best I could do.”
“You seem awfully clean for having been through a dust storm.”
“She washed her face and I washed mine. Is there a law that says half-breeds can’t clean up, or that people traveling with them can’t?”
“Let it go, Enders,” the captain said then, his eyes on Wade. “It’s obvious the man helped your intended. Just be glad she’s safe and mending.”
“How do I know the Comanche didn’t rape her,” Enders sneered. “Maybe she doesn’t want me to know and she made this one promise not to tell. Maybe while she was delirious he took his own turn.”
Wade leaped from the chair, knocking it over. Enders pulled a pistol but Lieutenant Brown quickly stepped between the two men, brandishing his rifle at Wade, who stood with fists clenched.
“If that woman had gone through something like that, would she be as recovered as she already is?” Wade growled at Enders. “She doesn’t mean anything to me except a poor woman who needed help, mister, but by God, if you suggest something like that to her face, I’ll kill you, you filthy-minded bastard!”
Comanche Sunset Page 26
