No part of his face was exceptional. However, the sum of its parts made one want to take a second, more lingering look.
Luckily, he seemed oblivious to her stare.
“Miss Tracey, I presume. Please forgive my rude entrance.” Executing a small bow, he said in a deep, almost scratchy voice, “My name is Devin Monroe. At one time I was Thomas’s captain.”
She stood and curtsied deeply. “Sir, your appearance is most welcome. I hope your journey wasn’t too strenuous?”
“I am happy to say that it would take a far more taxing trip to make it a strenuous one.”
“May I bring you something to drink or eat?”
He looked at Bess, Jerome, and Landon. “Thank you, but not at the moment.”
Major Kelly stepped forward and held out his hand. “Glad you could join us, Devin. As you might have surmised, we were just discussing a few things that have been occurring recently on Miss Tracey’s property.”
Turning to Landon, Captain Monroe surveyed him from top to bottom. “I overheard much of what was discussed,” he said, his voice cold. “Trust me when I say that it would be in your best interests, sir, to conclude your visit at this time.”
Landon narrowed his eyes. “What are you insinuating?”
“That while thousands of men were in the Confederacy, few earned the reputation you did.”
Landon blanched. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but I assure you I served with honor.”
“I’m sure you served many women extremely well,” Captain Monroe said sarcastically. While Landon sputtered, the captain turned to Thomas. “Thomas, I’d like an update as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir. I will do that presently.”
“What a minute,” Jerome called out. “Our business is not done.”
Before Laurel could step in, Thomas said, “I beg to disagree. I believe it’s time to bid you good evening.”
“Laurel, are you simply going to stand there and let these men push us out the door?” Bess asked.
Laurel thought Bess looked crestfallen. So much so, she was tempted to ask her, at least, to stay. Though Bess hadn’t treated her well, Laurel wasn’t proud that she’d sent Bess away. It wasn’t a Christian way to behave, especially toward a woman who was essentially on her own in the middle of Texas. Bess was also family. Even though she had neither been grateful for Laurel’s sacrifices on her behalf nor lifted a finger to help her, she could change.
Maybe she already had changed?
While the men in the room waited on her reply, Laurel pursed her lips. Maybe she should ask the men to move back out to the barn and strive to make it work with Bess and Jerome? Her stepfather had been so very good to her. Surely he would be pleased if Laurel took them back.
Her mother would be proud of her too. After all, hadn’t she taught Laurel time and again to do good deeds without expecting anything in return? Surely this was in that category.
Having made her decision, Laurel cleared her throat. “Bess, as a matter of fact—”
“Good,” Bess said, interrupting. “I’m glad you’re coming to your senses. For a moment I was worried you were actually thinking of continuing this façade.”
Laurel blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Bess waved a hand impatiently. “Look at you, primping among all these gentlemen.”
“Primping?” Laurel looked down at herself. She was wearing a faded and worn calico. No doubt her hair resembled a rat’s nest after being pushed off her face for the last ten hours.
When she raised her head, she saw Bess looking her up and down, disdain heavy in her eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t pretend you don’t. It’s unseemly. And if I may be blunt, embarrassing for you.” Raising her chin, she said, “We both know you would never catch the eye of men like these. Why, they were officers.”
Mortified that Thomas and his friends were hearing such accusations, she sputtered, “I have not been attempting to catch anyone’s eye.”
“You need to accept Landon’s suit. He is your only chance for matrimony. And he has promised that Jerome and I can live in this house too.”
Landon got to his feet. “My offer of marriage still stands, Laurel. I can protect both you and Red Roan Ranch. And if you feel guilty about how you’ve treated Miss Vance and her brother, I can buy the ranch and you can give them the proceeds.”
Oh, but this was awful! Her cheeks burned as Thomas, his captain, Robert, and the major all looked on with varying degrees of distaste. What did they think of her now? She could only imagine.
And though she hated to continue to air her dirty laundry, it didn’t seem as if she had much choice. She ignored Landon and turned to her stepsiblings.
“I need to keep the Red Roan Ranch. It’s all I have left of my parents. It’s all I have left of your father too. Surely that means something to you. He loved this ranch.”
“If he loved this place, his affection was misplaced,” Jerome interjected in a bored tone. “Besides, if he had truly loved this land, he would have asked Bess and me to come here years ago. He never did.”
“Why would he ask you to live here? He and my mother lived on the property he left you. And besides, you two were still in boarding school when he married my mother.”
“Yes, I believe you were studying math and whatever while the rest of us were fighting,” Thomas murmured.
Jerome folded his arms across his chest. “I was studying business and law while you all, I have learned, were languishing on an island during the end of the war. There’s a difference, I think,” he said.
Robert Truax’s whole posture changed and his fists clenched. Looking at his expression, Laurel realized he was holding on to his temper with care.
Luckily, she was also coming to the conclusion that nothing was ever going to change her stepsiblings. No matter what she did or said to Bess and Jerome, they were never going to respect her. They also were never going to appreciate the ranch the way she did. To them, it was simply a piece of land that, one way or another, would allow them to continue their rather aimless lives.
It would never be their legacy.
It would never be their home.
That realization bolstered Laurel’s resolve. She had to keep the ranch. If she lost this land, she would feel like a failure. She would also feel as if she had lost an important part of herself. She couldn’t allow that, not when she’d already lost so much.
Turning to Landon, she said, “I do think you have had my best interests at heart, and I understand you think marrying me will be of help. But I can’t marry only for the ranch’s future, and I will not sell this land.”
“You will regret this,” Landon warned.
“I don’t think so.” As he glared at her, she turned to face Bess and Jerome. “Time and again I have tried to give you both the benefit of the doubt. I have waited for y’all to help me work the ranch. To help me keep your father’s legacy alive and well. But you never did. Now it is very apparent that you never will. I have had enough, I’m afraid. Please leave.”
That seemed to be all Thomas needed. He turned toward the foyer. “You heard the lady. It’s time to go.”
Jerome glared at the assembled men, his expression holding nothing but disdain for the war heroes in the room.
Then he turned to Laurel. “From now on, I will cease to know you. You are no better than a soiled dove working the alleys, living the way you are with multiple men. It’s shameful and unseemly.”
Just as she was about to sputter a reply, Thomas threw out a punch and hit Jerome square in the face.
Uttering a startled cry, Jerome’s head jolted back from the force, though he did remain on his feet. After a few seconds, he blinked his one good eye, his other hidden behind one palm. Blood began to pour from his nose. “You will regret this.”
“You are full of threats, aren’t you?” Lieutenant Truax asked as he grabbed Jerome’s elbow. “I’ve rarely seen or heard the like.”
&nb
sp; “Are all of you going to allow him to get away with this? He struck me.”
“If he hadn’t hit you, I would have done the deed myself,” the lieutenant said. “There is no way I would stand quietly while you disparaged Miss Tracey. Though I may not have Thomas Baker’s size, I can pack a good wallop.”
Holding a handkerchief to his face, Jerome merely walked out of the room without a word.
“It is evident that this situation has disintegrated,” Landon said. “I’ll see myself out.”
Bess said nothing, just followed Jerome and Landon and scurried to the front entrance.
After Robert closed the door, he grinned. “Good riddance to them.”
Thomas stepped close to her. “Are you all right, Laurel?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for coming to my defense. Thank you, too, Lieutenant Truax.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said. “I must say, I always thought having siblings would make my life better and more complete. But after meeting those two, I’m kind of glad I missed out. They couldn’t have been harder to bear.”
“I’m afraid I’ve often felt that way myself,” Laurel replied. Wanting to get everything out in the open, she looked curiously at Captain Monroe. “Sir, what did you mean about Landon Marshall? I thought he’d served with honor.”
“No, he didn’t do that. Not exactly. But I’m afraid the things I know are not suitable for feminine ears.”
Thomas rested a hand on the middle of her back. “He’s right, Miss Laurel. Let it go, at least for now.”
Realizing he was right, that there were far more important things to dwell on besides Landon’s past, she drew a deep breath. “Gentlemen, would you care for some fresh coffee?”
“That would be much appreciated, miss,” the major said. “Thank you.”
Just as she left the room, she saw Captain Monroe hug Thomas like a fond old friend. She imagined Thomas was asking how he knew he was in jail and thanking him for his gifts. Thanking him for coming now to his aid.
When all the men started chuckling, then began to talk as though they’d never been apart for more than a day or two, she knew it was a welcome reunion. A needed one.
It was a blessing in the middle of a terrible situation. And because those moments were hard to come by and should be treasured, she decided to take her time with both the coffee and the captain’s supper. Some things were far more important.
29
Johnson’s Island, Ohio
Confederate States of America Officers POW Camp
MAIL HAD ARRIVED AGAIN.
Thomas knew the routine, and in his more maudlin moments, he resented the men who looked forward to each mail day like the arrival of a long-awaited lover.
Whenever rumors circulated that a boat had arrived with a pack of letters, a new tension would flurry around the camp. The men would rest on their bunks, gazing at the door of the barracks. And while they waited, they would mope and whine and talk about how the hours passed so slowly.
Then their eyes would light up when one of the guards wandered in with a handful of precious correspondence.
It happened again and again, with Thomas never receiving a thing.
Usually he dealt with his disappointment by muttering caustic remarks to whoever was nearby. But this day found him in a more reflective mood. Instead of glaring at the guards or mercilessly teasing the recipients, he sat on his cot and watched.
As usual, Phillip Markham had a handful of letters. Each one was addressed with care. Each letter of his name was carefully formed, as if his beloved Miranda cared so much about her husband that she needed to make even the letters of his name perfect.
Phillip received so many letters from his wife that he wasn’t stingy when he read them. While most men retreated to corners in the barracks or empty spaces on the grounds to read mail, weep, and mourn, Phillip simply sat down on his cot, placed his letters in chronological order as best he could, and read them one right after the other.
Thomas, sitting on his cot next to him, would sometimes sneak a glance and attempt to read some of Miranda’s words and phrases. It was hard for him to do. He didn’t want to be rude and intrusive.
But he had a whole other more embarrassing reason. It was plain and simple too. He couldn’t read well. Not hardly at all.
He liked to tell himself it was most fortunate that he didn’t have a sweetheart to write him. If she did write, he’d have to ask another man to read her words. And then he’d have to ask him to write for him too. A man’s pride could take only so much.
Therefore, he lay on his back on his cot and made do with feeling the happiness that drifted off the lieutenant.
“Hey, Thomas,” Phillip said after almost a quarter hour had passed.
Thomas turned his head to face him. “Yeah?”
“Want to hear part of Miranda’s letter?”
He did. He ached to hear the words, to pocket them away so he could one day pretend they had been written for him. But such eagerness would be misunderstood.
So he propped himself up on his elbows. “If you want. What is she pattering on about today? Her daffodils?”
Phillip laughed, the sound lighthearted and sweet. “Not this time. It’s . . . it’s about our house.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” he teased. “Read on.”
Phillip cleared his throat. “‘I hope you don’t mind, but I decided to redecorate some of the downstairs rooms. They seemed so dusty and drab. You know they do, Phillip, dear. Why, your office alone feels like a dark tunnel with those plum-colored velvet curtains and heavy carpets. And the smell! We’ve had so many fires in that fireplace I fear everything will forever smell like a chimney sweep.’”
Thomas closed his eyes and imagined such a place. Thick curtains, heavy carpets, roaring fireplaces, and a woman living in the center of it all who actually cared what it looked and smelled like.
Phillip inhaled. “Don’t fret, Thomas. It gets better. Listen to this: ‘With your comfort in mind, dear husband, Winifred and Emerson and even Cook and Belle and I pulled out the rugs and beat them on the front lawn. Then Belle and I—Belle is the new girl from New Orleans, remember?—set to work taking down those drapes. It was difficult. They were so heavy, and they were fastened with those awful brass rings your mother is so fond of.
“‘Anyway, just as we were halfway done, a mouse scurried out of the hem of the drape Belle was holding! A mouse had been living there! That was how long it had been living in your office unattended, Phillip. Which, as an aside, means those drapes were in desperate need to be removed.’”
Phillip chuckled as he flipped over the sheet of velum. “Isn’t this something, Thomas?”
Thomas’s throat was so tight with jealousy he could only nod.
Clearing his throat, the lieutenant continued. “‘Well, you must surely imagine what happened next! That rodent scurried toward me! I cried out and jumped on a chair. Belle was stranded, so I pulled her up on the same seat as me! Us in our skirts . . . why, there was hardly an extra inch to breathe.
“‘Then, when Belle saw another mouse, we squealed again, so loudly that we startled Mr. and Mrs. Clark, who were out for their usual Friday evening stroll. They came running up the lawn and burst into the foyer without even knocking first.’”
Phillip looked at Thomas. “I never cared for Mr. or Mrs. Clark. They don’t have much of a sense of humor, I’m afraid.”
“Pity,” Thomas muttered, eager to hear the rest of the tale.
“‘And . . . oh, Phillip, it was just awful. There they were, standing in the doorway, watching Belle and me clasp each other on top of a chair. When—and I am sorry about this, Phillip, I really am—the chair broke—’”
Thomas leaned forward. “Broke, you say?”
Phillip’s face lit up as he continued. “‘We fell to the ground, startling the mouse, who went running toward Mr. and Mrs. Clark! Mrs. Clark ran out of the house while Mr. Clark attempted to bash the poor thing with his umbrella. He
missed, thankfully.’”
Unable to help himself, Thomas interrupted. “Thankfully?”
Phillip chuckled. “That is one thing you’re going to learn when you get yourself a wife, Thomas. Women are fretful creatures. They change their minds on a moment’s notice and feel sorry for small furry creatures.” He sighed. “I don’t know what we men would do without them.”
Thomas laughed. “You mean you don’t know what you’d do without your Miranda, sir. You, I’m afraid, are well and truly smitten.”
Staring down at the letter, Phillip grinned. “I can’t deny it. I’m afraid I am.”
“What are you going to write to her about all that, sir? Are you upset about the chair?”
“The chair? Of course not. I don’t care about the mouse either. All that matters to me is that she’s there at home, waiting for me to return.”
“You are a blessed man, sir.”
“I know I am. But don’t worry, Thomas. When you get back to Texas, I’m sure some gal will claim your attentions too.” He laughed again. “I am only going to be sorry that I won’t be there to hear the stories about all she puts you through.”
“I won’t be marrying anyone, sir.”
“Don’t be so certain. Love and marriage happen to the best of us.”
“Not to men like me, I’m afraid.”
Carefully folding Miranda’s letter into its envelope, Phillip glanced at him again. “That’s where you’re wrong, Sergeant. It happens especially to men like you.”
Not wanting to argue that point, Thomas lay back down. He rested his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes, and finally gave in to the temptation of imagining what it might be like to be Phillip Markham. To have a pretty woman waiting for him in a comfortable house.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture it. It seemed such a thing was beyond him.
30
An Uncommon Protector Page 22
