Indeed, he was Sergeant Thomas Baker. Thomas in her private thoughts.
Thomas!
Realizing that she hadn’t heard him come into the house, she felt her mouth go dry. Where was he?
Panic set in as she imagined the possibilities. She really hoped he hadn’t turned her into a liar and taken off while she’d been sitting inside stewing and trying not to cry.
Getting to her feet, she wiped away the few tears she’d shed and hurried through the foyer to the front door. Perhaps he was sitting in the barn with Velvet, wondering what had happened to her. And he was also probably wondering about his living quarters and a meal. She rushed out the door.
Then, just as abruptly, she drew to a stop.
Thomas was standing on the covered porch facing her, leaning against one of the white columns her mother had begged her father to install years before war had infiltrated their lives.
He was also staring directly at her.
When she parted her lips, trying desperately to think of a reason she had practically flown out the door, something new appeared in those blue eyes of his. Pushing off from the column, he bowed slightly. “Miss.”
That courtly gesture—so unexpected—made her flush. “I’m so sorry you’ve been waiting on me out here. Please forgive me.”
He shook his head. “First off, I think we need to remember that you are in charge, Miss Laurel. You don’t see to my needs. I see to yours. That means I can and will stand here all day long if that is what you need me to do.”
His words might have been true, but it was his lazy drawl and slightly amused look that caught her insides and made her feel as if her world had just shifted to one side.
“I hope I will never treat you so harshly.”
“Making me wait for you could never be called a harsh punishment.”
There she went again. In spite of her best intentions, she found herself responding to something he said in a way that was completely inappropriate. Goodness! She needed to get back on a firmer, more professional foundation. She needed to get a grip on her emotions as well. Immediately!
“Did you put up Velvet all right?” she asked, hoping she sounded as if she was all business.
“I did. I watered her and gave her a good rubdown.”
“You had time to do all that?”
“It wasn’t all that much. Just so you know, I also fed her fresh hay and oats and mucked out her stall. And oiled the leathers. I did the same with the other horse too.” He raised an eyebrow. “The pretty palomino.”
“He’s called Yellow.”
“Yellow?” His lips twitched.
“I didn’t name the gelding. He came with that name, such that it is.”
“He is a yellow color. I suppose it makes sense.”
“Actually, it kind of doesn’t.”
When he looked at her curiously, she filled him in. “The story goes that he was a sorry horse in battle. He shied away from the first gunshot.”
“I can’t say I blame him. The battlefield certainly ain’t a pleasant place to be.”
“I suppose not.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m thinking Yellow has the makings of a right fine horse.”
“I thought so too. He’s real gentle and doesn’t seem to mind working long hours. We’ve been getting along just fine. No doubt he’s had some eventful days, given the fact that I didn’t know what I was doing when I first started herding cattle with him. But he’s been patient with my struggles.”
Instead of smiling at her little joke, he turned serious. “If he was being brave, you were too.”
She liked the way that sounded. “Maybe so.” Holding out her hands, she said, “I’ve had my share of aches and pains and blisters. Some days I think it would have been easier to give up.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Not yet,” she joked, but it sounded rather pitiful, even to her ears.
But what else could she say? Ever since her father and brother left to fight in the war, and especially after her mother remarried and left to live with her new husband on the property Jerome and Bess later inherited, she’d been bearing the weight of running the ranch. When Jerome and Bess had shown up, their presence had only added more work for her.
She cleared her throat. “You know, I can’t remember the last time anyone oiled the tack.”
“It was nothing. A man in the cavalry learns real quick that his horse and tack make the difference between life and death.”
The easy statement reminded her yet again of all he’d been through. Of what they’d both been through.
As if sensing her unease, he smiled softly. “What would you like me to do now?”
She didn’t want to do this. Though she’d freed him from captivity to work, it was now going to be just the two of them on the ranch.
She was going to need to be his boss. A person he respected.
But she didn’t want to start their relationship with her constantly giving him a list of chores.
Gesturing to the porch steps, she said, “Maybe we could sit down for a spell and visit?”
“Visit?” He looked a little confused, almost as if he wasn’t sure of the term.
“Yes. I mean, if you don’t mind. I could bring us some cold cider.”
He looked completely taken aback, and she supposed she didn’t blame him. “That . . . well, that would be real kind of you.”
Feeling relieved, she opened the door again. “I’ll be right back.”
Laurel walked through the covered opening to the small kitchen, then pulled out two large, speckled stoneware mugs and poured cold cider from the cellar into them.
When she returned, Thomas jumped to his feet. Before she could figure out what to do, he took both mugs from her, set them on the floor of the wooden porch, then held out his hand to help her sit down on the top step. Just like they were in a parlor.
When she felt his touch, she trembled.
He felt it and froze. “Beg pardon, I didn’t mean to act so familiar. Please don’t be frightened. I would never hurt you.”
“No, it wasn’t that you scared me. It’s just that it’s been awhile since I was accustomed to such care.” To her chagrin, she blushed again. Blast! She didn’t know how to be coy and entertaining. She didn’t even remember how to act friendly or relaxed. Obviously she had been keeping company with herself for far too long, though she’d been relieved to convince Landon to stay away.
After handing her one of the mugs, he sat down by her side and took a healthy sip. Pure pleasure lit his expression. “This tastes real good, Miss Laurel. By far the best drink I’ve partaken of in months. Thank you.”
She took a small sip too. “You’re welcome. I think it’s just the right combination of tart and sweet. I bought it from a woman who was passing through town. She was . . . well, she was desperate for some income. Every time I take a sip, I think it’s so much better than I anticipated. The quality of her offering was a welcome surprise.”
“The best things are like that, I reckon.”
“I’ve always thought so too.” She took another sip of the cold drink, enjoying the way the liquid felt sliding down her throat. “Sergeant, there’s a storage room at the back of the barn. There’s a window in it, and it hasn’t been used for much since the war. I think it might work out as a room for you.”
“I’m sure it will suit me just fine.”
Though he seemed perfectly at ease with her suggestion, she still felt bad. No matter how shady it was in the barn, it was still dusty and hot, and she had two empty bedrooms in the house now.
But how could she share a house with a man?
“There’s no bedding in it yet. I was going to get Jerome to help me move a cot or one of the mattresses out there. But of course he’s gone now. I’ll help you with it.”
“Don’t worry about that none. I can sleep on anything you’ve got tonight, then I’ll find a way to get a cot out there.”
Looking doubtfully at his back, she
said, “I can’t imagine your back will thank you.”
“Don’t you worry about that. I promise it’s been through worse.”
That reminder made her feel even guiltier. Gathering her courage, she said, “Maybe it would be better for your back if you slept in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs? You would be cooler, and we wouldn’t have to go to the trouble of moving a cot to the barn.”
He stilled. “You want me to sleep in the house?”
“Yes. I mean, you could have Jerome’s bedroom until you heal. It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“I’m afraid it would, miss. It would mean a whole lot of trouble for the both of us.”
Slumping her shoulders, she said, “I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I am. Don’t spare me another thought. Like I said, I’ll be fine out in the barn.”
“I’ll fetch you some blankets. And a pillow.”
His gaze warmed. “That would be real good. Thank you, Miss Laurel.”
Her invitation, along with his refusal of it, seemed to change the feeling of camaraderie between them. They sat in silence for a while, neither doing much but looking out at her land.
Laurel was mentally exhausted, thinking about how relieved she was to have hired Thomas, all while worrying about Jerome and Bess . . . and wondering if she was being hopelessly naïve to put so much trust in a man she knew next to nothing about.
After a good half hour had passed, she stood. “I’ll, uh, go get your things together. I’ll also make a meal.” Still feeling frazzled, she brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Is there anything you don’t like?”
“A man like me hasn’t had much opportunity to be picky. I’ll like anything you prepare, miss.”
Why did his statement leave her feeling a little breathless? “I have some chicken. And smoked ham.”
“Don’t put yourself to trouble on my account.”
“It’s no trouble. I mean, we need to eat, right, Sergeant? No matter what else happens, we need to eat.”
“Of course, miss.”
His thoughtful expression was a bit disconcerting.
So was his quiet demeanor while he ate every speck of the fried ham, creamed potatoes, and glazed carrots on his plate an hour later.
She’d tried not to let him see that she noticed the way his gaze lingered on her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Or the way he insisted on washing both his plate and hers.
Or the way he thanked her for the meal before leaving for a long walk all around her property, and again after their light supper, before he once again went to the barn to care for her animals.
It was only when she climbed into bed and dimmed her lantern that she allowed herself to really think about his actions and words. About the way he seemed so grateful and tentative.
And she began to wonder what his life had been like. She knew he had fought in the war and been imprisoned, that he got into trouble with a gambling debt. But what other events had eventually led him to a jail cell in Sweetwater, Texas, and ultimately to sleeping in her barn?
Before sleep overtook her, she wondered if she really wanted to know.
9
Johnson’s Island, Ohio
Confederate States of America Officers POW Camp
Winter 1865
HIS MOUTH HAD GOTTEN HIM IN TROUBLE AGAIN.
As Thomas sat on his cot, shivering next to Robert Truax, he could practically feel the animosity rolling off the second lieutenant. Thomas didn’t blame him in the slightest.
After all, he was twenty-two years old now. Far too old to be shooting off his mouth the way he had. He’d gotten mad at some new captain from Mississippi over an imagined slight. Before he knew what he was doing, Thomas had called him a few choice names. The captain had taken offense.
That had led, unfortunately, to Thomas punching him in the face with a powerful left hook.
The captain had fallen flat on his face. The man’s fellow Mississippians hadn’t taken that well and attacked Thomas—which had led, of course, to his own band of friends joining in the fray.
The guards watched the skirmish for a while, then broke up the fight. Soon after, they made sure Thomas’s group felt the consequences. They removed their stove.
Since snow covered the ground and their quarters were essentially hastily erected buildings constructed of green lumber, their usually cold conditions hovered at the freezing mark.
Now everyone was shivering on their cots, irritated with him and nursing various assorted injuries to boot.
Yep, this time the consequences of his inability to keep his mouth shut had been especially miserable. Hating himself, hating the anger that always seemed to be boiling on the surface of his tongue, Thomas swallowed hard and tried not to dissolve even deeper into self-pity. When a lump formed in his throat, he coughed, hoping he wasn’t about to do something he was going to be even more ashamed about.
“You ain’t about to start crying, are you?” Robert asked.
“Of course not,” Thomas replied, his voice thick with emotion.
“Sure?” he asked, his tone now filled with distaste. “’Cause you sound like you’re on the verge of tears.”
Thomas bit the inside of his cheek and concentrated on that pinch. It was a welcome thing. Far better than coming off as weak. Everyone knew Robert had grown up on the streets of Fort Worth. Rumors abounded about who took care of him. Some said fallen women. Others said old war veterans from 1812.
All Thomas knew was that the man had had a harder life than even Thomas had and still didn’t go around hitting captains or picking fights. “I’m, uh, just cold. The wind is blowing pretty bad tonight. It feels like we’re sitting in the middle of the lake.”
“I wonder why?” Major Kelly called out sarcastically. “Could it be because we have no heat? Thanks to you?”
“That’s enough, Ethan,” Phillip Markham said. “The boy has already apologized for his actions. Several times.”
“Pardon me if I’m not feeling too kindly toward that apology. Words don’t mean all that much right now. My feet feel like they might as well be submerged in Lake Erie.”
“Just don’t kick me with them,” Captain Monroe bit out. “If you can help yourself, that is. I’ve never known a person to toss and turn as much as you do in your sleep.”
“You aren’t all that great to sleep with either, Devin.”
“Yeah, but I’m still better than sleeping alone.”
Thomas could practically hear Major Kelly grit his teeth before he exhaled with a bark of laughter. “You may have a point. The only thing worse than sleeping beside any of you would be to sleep alone. I’d have frostbite by morning.”
Robert chuckled. “By the end of the night, I reckon all of us will be spooned up like dance hall girls.”
“I don’t believe spooning is what those girls do,” Phillip said, joking.
“Oh, like you would even know,” the major said. “You’ve only been around one woman.” He sighed dramatically. “The fair Miranda.”
“That is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Indeed it is not. It’s a blessing the likes of us have never known,” the captain countered. After a pause, he called out, “Do you not have anything to say now, Sergeant?”
Captain Monroe’s voice held a definite edge. Feeling rather like a misbehaving child, Thomas cleared his throat. “No, sir.”
“Ah, don’t be so hard on yourself. If it wasn’t you picking a fight with Creighten, something else would have set the lot of us off. We’re a group of soldiers used to a lot of physical activity. Sitting around in the middle of a snow and ice storm didn’t do us any favors.”
“I still regret my actions.”
“I regret them too,” Major Kelly moaned.
“Oh, stop,” Phillip said. “You know as well as I do that Creighten had it coming. That man is an idiot and a blowhard. And a braggart.”
“This is true.” Amusement entered Major Kelly’s tone. “He’s a fool. On
ly a fool would say he could outride the lot of us. Like it even matters at this point in time.”
Captain Monroe started laughing. “The man grew up on a farm in southern Mississippi. He was not racing horses; he was planting alfalfa. He certainly never learned to ride like our Thomas Baker can.”
For a moment, Thomas let himself luxuriate in the feeling of pride the captain’s offhand comment gave him. He could indeed ride well. His father had made sure of that.
“Can you really ride so well, Baker?” Major Kelly called out.
Thomas considered lying, but since there was so little he felt proud of, he couldn’t do it. “Well . . . yes, I can.”
“How come? You have a natural gift?”
“No. I . . . well, I mean, my father was a blacksmith. He loved horses and made sure I loved them too. He had me riding practically before I could walk. I grew up in the saddle.”
“Our sergeant is being too modest. He can ride like the wind. He and the horse move like one,” Phillip said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“My brother was better,” Thomas blurted.
“Is he gone?” Captain asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“What battle?”
“No battle, sir. My brother, Jeremy, died long before the war began.” Thomas hesitated, then decided to tell the whole truth. “My family all died when I was eight years old.”
“Good Lord,” Major Kelly uttered. “What happened? Did they get scarlet fever?”
He didn’t want to answer. But he supposed he deserved the pain. “Indian raid. Everyone in my family fought them but me. Said I was too young,” he choked out. “My father made me go to a hiding place and told me not to come out, no matter what.” Swallowing, he said, “So I hid while they were attacked and killed.”
“And you heard the whole thing,” Robert muttered.
“Yeah. I heard everything. Every bit of it.”
The silence that met his statement made Thomas want to curl into a ball as a grown man and pretend to be anywhere else. Now they had a whole other reason to look down on him. Only a true coward would admit to hiding while his mother was being tortured by the Comanche, even if he had been a child at the time.
An Uncommon Protector Page 8
