But her first crusade was finding out what Bradley was accused of and informing him of her break with Tim-Bob and the Cat-Eye. Then maybe she could help prettify the Misses Adams.
“Let’s see where you are in your studies,” Louisa said. She picked up the spelling primer and ran her finger down the page. The words in the front of the book seemed simple. She looked again at Daisy, perched on the edge of the sofa, eager for the test to begin. What could a ten-year-old spell? She’d know soon enough.
“Spell tooth.”
Daisy turned to grin at Caroline, who rolled her eyes.
“T-o-o-t-h.”
That was too easy. Louisa flipped through another year’s worth of lessons. “Spell copper.”
Daisy’s answer matched the book, so Louisa had to admit she’d been bested.
The clock chimed. She lowered the book. “Time for lunch.”
“It’s only ten o’clock,” Caroline replied.
Ten o’clock? She should just now be getting out of bed. She’d go crazy if she had to sit in this parlor all day when her brother was so close. While trying to ease the furrows on her brow, she flipped the pages of the primer until the words looked more difficult.
“Let’s try trifling.”
Finally, Daisy was stumped. Feeling much relieved, Louisa handed her the book. “Copy these words on your slate, and we’ll test you tomorrow.”
Daisy promptly arranged her slate on her lap. Probably a real governess would insist on her sitting at a table, but why did proper people think the only way you could learn was if you were uncomfortable?
Daisy’s head popped up. “Do I have to copy the saying at the end?”
“What’s it say?”
“‘Never shirk the truth to tell; What is false is far from well.’”
Louisa ran her hands over the pile of blond curls that cascaded over her shoulder. She pulled her hair over her heart and twisted a curl around her finger. “Why would you want to copy that?”
“Isn’t it part of the exercise?”
Louisa took a deep breath. Daisy was just a child. She didn’t know that Louisa was a sinner pretending to be a saint. Besides, who was Louisa hurting by being there? She might accidentally teach a ten-year-old a few spelling words if she wasn’t careful. What would be the harm in that?
Tired of being ignored, Caroline reached for the Practical Reader. The spine creaked as she forced the pages to part for the first time. Instead of starting at the beginning, she opened it near the back. With a shake of her head, she snapped the book closed.
“This is for children. There’s not a passage in there that I can’t read. Simplistic.”
Truthfully, Louisa wanted nothing more than to drag Mrs. Townsend into the room and ask her why she’d chosen these books for the girls, for there didn’t seem to be anything appropriate or interesting to them.
“I thought you hated school,” Louisa said.
“Only because it’s too easy. The teachers that come to the fort never challenge me.”
Louisa’s teeth ground against each other. “Then read this.” She shoved the botany book at Caroline and let go before the girl could push it back at her. “Unless you’ve studied botany already . . .”
Please don’t let her know botany. Please don’t let her know botany.
Louisa nearly cheered when Caroline flounced away and flopped into the armchair by the fireplace. The girl took no pains to spare the pages from her juvenile frustration, but Louisa could not care less. She’d bought herself some time. It had to get easier from here.
The line of horses seemed to flicker in the sun. The sharp uniforms of the drilling troopers faded into a foggy blue haze. Daniel knew he could fool everyone into thinking that he was critiquing their drill—until he collapsed on the ground, at least. Trying to lead while lying facedown in the red dirt of Fort Reno wouldn’t be his finest moment. He had to look like he was in control, even when he couldn’t control his own spinning head.
Actually, everything seemed to be spinning out of control, not just his head. Ben Clark reported that the reduced rations from the agency had the Cheyenne riled up. With the fort holding only a fifth of the troopers it was meant to house, Daniel couldn’t afford any kind of trouble. Not until Washington got around to resupplying his men. He hated this pointless waiting. If it were up to him, he’d solve the problem immediately. Answer the request. Dispatch the troops. Why let a problem fester when you knew the solution?
But Daniel didn’t know the solution to the mystery under his own roof. Who was this Miss Bell? Why hadn’t she said anything about meeting him before? Unless his memory was faulty, which it very well could be, she’d been the soul of concern. Perhaps even more concerned than was seemly for a woman of her position. Then again, his actions had hardly been appropriate. If she never mentioned the incident, so much the better. His nose twitched. Something about her didn’t add up, and he wouldn’t rest easy until he figured out what was wrong. The situation called for extra vigilance, and he was more than willing to watch her like a hawk.
He owed her hospitality, as she’d come at his request. And he owed her the respect he’d give any lady, especially a Christian sister sent by the missionaries he admired. Beyond that, he prayed that God wouldn’t allow his judgment to be clouded. A pretty face was no substitute for character.
Daniel forced the scene before him into focus. Command Sergeant Major O’Hare stood under a tree with his field glasses. The parade grounds weren’t big enough for him to need field glasses, but the stout Irishman preferred looking official. Going to him gave Daniel an excuse to wait in the shade.
“These are all the men we have?” Daniel asked as he motioned for a trooper to bring him a canteen of water.
Sergeant O’Hare pulled on his brown goatee. “I hope the Cheyenne aren’t keeping count.”
Daniel was of the firm opinion that when Washington proposed any new Indian regulations, they should go ahead and send extra troops with them. Especially for edicts as unpopular as the short rations. If conditions worsened, Agent Dyer would let him know. He’d ring Daniel through the telephone line that ran directly between the agency and the fort.
But more was ringing in his head than the telephone. Daniel took the canteen from the trooper and tossed back a quick drink, but the sudden movement made his head swim.
“Are you feeling alright?” O’Hare asked. “Beg my pardon for asking, but . . .”
Daniel glared at his officer. At least he hoped he was glaring at him. From the way the light reflected around everything, he couldn’t be sure exactly where his eyes were pointed.
“I’m going to get Doc—”
“No,” Daniel said. “I’m fine.”
But even in his confused state, he could see Sergeant O’Hare discreetly waving for help. Daniel fumed. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Didn’t want to give these tightly wound troops any reason to question his fitness. Maybe it was better to retreat while still showing strength.
“I have correspondence to attend to,” he heard himself say. As he walked out from under the tree, the bright light stung his eyes. He knew he’d recover, but he hated being weak, even if it was just for a day. How could he take care of his duties, of his girls, if he wasn’t one-hundred-percent fit?
He kept his eyes down on the neat lawn of the green as he made his way back to the house. He’d always prided himself on his ability to take care of things, of people. Anything less was a failure.
But he had failed. He was on a campaign when Daisy was born. Margaret had been taken by a fever suddenly, and a week and two days later, she was buried while Daniel held the infant in the crook of one arm and six-year-old Caroline by the hand. The sobs of his mother-in-law had battered him like artillery.
No wonder Edna didn’t trust him. He’d failed her daughter. Daniel didn’t know what he could have done to save her, but he had never forgiven himself for not being there. He wouldn’t fail his girls this time, which meant making sure that this governess lived u
p to her promises.
The white house reflected the hot sun at him. Inside it would be cool. He had to take care of himself, but he couldn’t let the new governess see him ailing. He’d get a cool rag for his forehead, then slip into his office and pull the shades.
He walked past the front porch, breathing in the scent of the roses that meant home to him this time of year. No use in alerting everyone that he was back. He didn’t want Miss Bell to think that convalescing was a frequent practice of his. Walking around the side of the house, he took stock of his firewood and the progress of his kitchen garden. He might be understaffed, but he still ran a tight ship. He stepped through the back door into the kitchen. Every muscle in his body ached, from his neck down. How he wished he could blame Bradley Willis, but this was solely on him. No one made him act the fool.
Daniel took a cheesecloth towel from a hook and doused it in cool water from the pump. If only he could get to his office without drawing the attention of the new governess. He didn’t want to see her again until he was feeling his best.
“So how many soldiers are stationed here?” His hearing sharpened at the sound of Miss Bell’s voice, especially as the topic concerned his men.
“I don’t know,” Daisy said. “The companies come and go a lot. Even those stationed here spend a lot of time patrolling the reservation. We don’t see much of them unless they’re here to restock their supplies.”
“Don’t forget the new recruits,” Caroline added. “They stay until they get the drills down and are ready for service. And some of them take longer than others.”
Ah, Caroline. What was he going to do with her? She was always comparing, always evaluating—and not much met her standards. Another trait that he and his eldest shared.
“But if there was a particular soldier you wanted to see, how would you meet him?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened at the inappropriate question. Meet one of the troopers? What exactly did she have in mind? Miss Bell’s beauty made him wary. This conversation only deepened his mistrust.
“You could ask Pa,” Daisy said. “He could order them to his office.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that,” Miss Bell said, a bit too hastily. “I wouldn’t want to trouble your father over anything so inconsequential. Now, open your books.”
His fist tightened on the towel in his hand, causing the water to drip on his boot. She knew better than to broach the subject with him but had no qualms about questioning his daughters?
Such behavior would not do.
Daniel knew some of the officers’ wives advertised for homely maids and governesses, because odds were they wouldn’t be able to keep a single woman single at an isolated outpost full of lonely soldiers. Now he understood the practice. But he’d always supposed the maids were struck by a case of regiment fever upon seeing the men in uniform. From the sound of it, Miss Bell had taken this post for that specific reason.
A week-long trial period? With her fetching attributes, she wouldn’t need half that time to get a proposal, and then he’d be left without help once again. Although his request for a referral had been answered immediately, the appointment had gone awry somewhere. What had happened to his strict missionary widow? Perhaps he should consult Agent Dyer before allowing Miss Bell to get too comfortable in his home.
“You told me to read the first chapter,” Caroline said, “but what are phaenogamous plants?”
Daniel grunted. Caroline and Daisy needed someone with Miss Bell’s academic training. That much couldn’t be denied. He’d just have to watch her closely to make sure she conducted herself in a manner befitting her station. Extremely closely.
“Daddy, what are you doing home?” Peering around the doorframe, Daisy smiled up at him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, hiding the rag. “Aren’t you supposed to be at your studies?”
Her eyes sparkled. “I am doing my studies. Remember how I learn my spelling words better if I walk around while I practice them? I’m practicing.”
His estimation of Miss Bell went up a begrudging notch. With his own governess, Daniel had never been allowed to get out of his seat, and like his daughter, he did his best thinking on the move. At least he’d found a teacher who understood Daisy.
Now that he was out of the sun, he felt revitalized. His head was slowly but surely clearing up.
“You work hard for Miss Bell,” he said, trying not to wince with each step. “If you get a proper education here, then there’s no reason for you to move to Galveston.”
Daisy held her spelling book in one hand with her thumb stuck between the pages. “If Caroline knows that, then she’ll mess up on purpose.”
Daniel pinched her cheek and whispered, “Caroline can’t stand to fail. I don’t think she could do it even if she wanted to. Now get back to work.”
Daisy scratched at her ribs, then turned and ran back to the parlor.
Daniel made a beeline for his office and purposefully refused to look in the parlor as he passed. Closing the window shades was a trick. It took him a few tries to find the precise angle to tug the lines, but he finally got them down. At least he could use this convalescence time to get something done. And he could also call Mr. Dyer about his unorthodox governess.
As he crossed to his desk, Daniel passed his chessboard. Sometimes he’d study it for hours, trying to think of the best move. That would take more effort than he was prepared for today, but something caught his eye.
His white queen was in jeopardy. The black rook was ready to pounce on her. How had he missed that? He squatted next to the board, his focus sharpening. If the rook had that opening available during his last play, he wouldn’t have left his queen there. And according to the arrowhead he kept on the bookcase, it was black’s play. Had black already moved? He fished through his memory. The pawn. It was in the wrong place. He was certain of it. So if black had moved, then it was white’s turn again, but who had moved it? Daisy? Caroline? Jack?
Or had he? Daniel touched the knot on his head. Had he moved it and forgotten? Anything was possible. He moved a bishop into the path of the rook to stop the assault, then double-checked that the arrowhead still pointed to the black side of the board.
That fall might have hurt his memory, but evidently it had improved his chess game.
He left the board and walked to the telephone box hanging on the wall. Lifting the receiver, he settled into his chair to wait for someone on the other end to answer. Outside, the line draped over the telephone poles and across the river like patriotic bunting until it dipped down toward the riverbank and disappeared from sight. Finally, he heard Dyer’s voice, scratchy over the miles of wire.
“This is Agent Dyer.”
“Major Adams, here. How are you prepared for Monday?”
Dyer hesitated. “We have the goods. We have more than enough goods, but no permission to distribute them all.”
Because the tribes wouldn’t learn to farm until the easy food stopped coming. Daniel understood the theory, but these tribes had faced starvation before. The children would be lost first. How far was the government willing to go in their reeducation plans? How could they expect the tribes to embrace their ways when they’d been bitter enemies?
“We’ll be there to keep a tight rein on things, as usual,” Daniel said.
“I kinda planned that you would be.” Dyer sounded confused. Why was Daniel calling on the rarely used telephone to tell him what he already knew?
Daniel took a deep breath. “There’s another issue I wanted to discuss. The governess arrived yesterday.”
“Excellent. I hope Mrs. Townsend is settling in.”
“Mrs. Townsend didn’t make it. Her replacement is named Miss Bell.”
There was another pause. “Hmm. That name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“You don’t know her?” Daniel leaned into the receiver. “I suspected as much. She isn’t what I asked for. Doesn’t dress like a Mennonite, doesn’t—”
“Major Adams, if I may.” Daniel could just imagine Dyer running his hand through his thinning hair. “I don’t think anything is amiss. If Mrs. Townsend is unavailable, I’m sure they sent a suitable replacement.”
“If you could only see her.”
“Why? What’s wrong with her?” Then, aside, “There’s no trouble, Ida. Don’t bother me now.”
“Well, she’s . . . she’s . . .” Daniel didn’t know what to say. A godly woman was beautiful in her own right, but somehow Miss Bell didn’t fit. And it was something he couldn’t quite identify. Something that made her different from other women he knew. Her clothes, her manners, the very fact that she’d accept a lowly position out in Indian Territory when she obviously had other opportunities, made him question her motives.
But how to describe it? “She’s a thoroughbred,” he finally said, “trying to pass herself off as a mule.”
Louisa’s heart pounded against her ribs as she listened in at the office doorway. She hadn’t fooled Major Adams. Not for a second. She waited for the click that would signal the end of the phone call and the end of her ruse, but instead the conversation continued.
“Yes, she did bring the books,” Major Adams said into the receiver. “She must have some training, although from her French vocabulary, I don’t think it was at a seminary.”
Louisa clenched her fists against her waist and closed her eyes, as if through concentration she could hear the voice on the other end of the line.
“I guess it couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone had to send her. But if you’d do me a favor, Dyer, next time you talk to those committee men, ask them exactly what experience she’s had. I’d like to know where she’s taught before. Yes, a letter with her references. That would be preferred, because some of the stuff she’s said has me curious.”
Holding the Fort Page 8
