Holding the Fort

by Regina Jennings

  “I’ll admit, you ladies do have it a bit harder. Step up here with your left foot.” He bent to hold the stirrup in his hand, but when she lifted her foot, he drew back to give her sensibilities some room. The horse shifted, and she hopped, trying to keep her balance.

  Her forehead creased as she removed her foot from the stirrup. “I’m not doing it right. Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

  “And leave me to take the girls shopping for dresses on my own? I don’t think so.” He had to smile at her laughter.

  “Point taken,” she said. “I won’t abandon you, Major.”

  He ignored the jolt of pleasure her words produced. It was just a phrase. “Getting up in the saddle is the trickiest part,” he said. “Let me help you.”

  He stepped forward and placed his hands around her waist. His chest grew tight, but he had a job to do. Before he lifted her, she braced herself by resting her hands on his shoulders. He knew he shouldn’t look, knew he should just focus on his task, but sometimes a soldier had to plunge headfirst into the fray regardless of the danger. His eyes sought hers. Their gazes locked, and he knew the truth. She felt the same breathless curiosity and, like him, would never admit it.

  He lifted her into the saddle and was finally able to breathe again. A nervous glance at his daughters told him that Caroline wasn’t paying a lick of attention, and Daisy was beaming happily at everyone, although probably unaware of how vulnerable her father felt. He was surprised by the revelation himself.

  “I feel off-balance,” Miss Bell said.

  So did he. “Hook your leg over the horn. Yes, like that. You might have to scoot over a little.”

  She made a tiny bounce and scrunched her nose. “I don’t feel very secure.”

  “Which is why my cavalry don’t ride sidesaddle. But you’ll get used to it.”

  “Can we go now?” Daisy asked.

  Glad for the excuse to get away, Daniel mounted his own horse. “Yes, but not too fast. Miss Bell won’t be able to keep up.” What had passed between them just now? Had Miss Bell noticed? Daniel arranged his hat against the morning sun. There was no room for infatuation. He had to stay objective.

  “Look, Father,” Caroline said. “Is that unit going out with us?”

  They were leaving now? Why now? He motioned for the ladies to wait until the two parallel columns of horses passed them. They looked sharp, his men in blue. Everyone rode by except for the trooper in the rear, who was on foot, leading his horse.

  “What’s he walking for?” Caroline asked. “Private Willis is an excellent horseman.”

  When had she noticed that? And how did she know his name? “He’s forbidden from riding on the grounds,” Daniel said. “He pulled some fool stunt and could’ve gotten someone killed.” Willis had almost reached them, so he lowered his voice. “Not the sort of man you want to rely on.”

  “I’m slipping!” Miss Bell’s backside had slid to the left of the saddle. She dropped the reins and held onto the saddle horn with both hands. “Help me!”

  The girls’ horses were between Daniel and Miss Bell. He maneuvered his mount around, but Private Willis reached her first. Leaving his horse behind, the young man raced to her side and caught her by the ankles.

  “Hold on to the horn,” Willis said.

  Pulling a saber on a man was never more tempting. “Unhand her, Trooper.”

  “Please,” Miss Bell said. “He’s helping me.”

  And he was, much to Daniel’s dismay. Using the trooper’s grip on her feet—would Daniel ever be able to erase the sight of her shapely ankles in Willis’s ungentlemanly hands?—Miss Bell was able to steady herself.

  She stretched her hand down to Willis. “I am Miss Louisa Bell, the governess for the children of Major Adams. I come from Wichita, and I am educated and proper. But I do declare, I have never met such a helpful and gentlemanly young man.”

  What? Daniel narrowed his eyes. What was she doing? Why did she have to tell him her life story? Last time they’d crossed Willis’s path, she’d manufactured a dizzy spell. Something was amiss. He didn’t like the influence the trooper had over her.

  Willis stared at Miss Louisa Bell as if thunderstruck. As if he couldn’t comprehend the words she was saying. The temper Miss Bell had chided Daniel for was about to make a reappearance.

  “That will be all, Private Willis.” Daniel had to get Willis away before he got hurt, and it wasn’t an Indian attack Willis should fear right now.

  “Yes, sir.” Willis caught the reins of his horse and ambled past them. As he got to Caroline, something fluttered to the ground.

  A lady’s glove. Caroline’s glove.

  Willis stopped. He stared at the glove as if it were a poisonous snake. To Daniel, it was even more deadly for the jackanapes.

  Don’t pick it up, Daniel warned in his head. Don’t be a fool. But Willis was every shade of a fool. With a tip of his hat at Caroline, he retrieved the glove, dusted it off, and placed it in her hand.

  “Thank you,” she cooed in a voice Daniel had never heard before.

  First his governess and then his daughter. Did this man have no sense of decency?

  “Get on your horse and go,” Daniel ordered without stopping to consider which encounter bothered him the most.

  “But, sir, I’m not supposed to get on a horse until I leave—”

  “Go.”

  The young man listened, and wisely so, because Daniel wouldn’t let down his guard until he got his womenfolk out of the range of Private Willis.

  Thinking while bouncing in a saddle was nearly impossible. Louisa tried to listen as Daisy excitedly described the charms of the agency and town ahead, but Louisa was too distracted by what had happened at the fort.

  All in all, she thought she’d done the right thing in bringing Bradley to the major’s attention. By pretending to fall out of her saddle, she’d given Bradley a chance to prove himself, but she hadn’t wanted him to expose her disguise. Thankfully, Bradley seemed to understand the situation immediately and didn’t ask any questions about her story. After such a gallant rescue, how could Major Adams think poorly of Bradley? And Caroline, bless her heart, had turned inexplicably clumsy at just the right time. Could Caroline have designs of her own?

  Louisa smiled through her wincing. Her brother had done her proud. Progress had been made. Hopefully the major wouldn’t forget what a gentleman Bradley was.

  They rode over a gentle ridge, and morning sun reflected off the red water of the Canadian River. The sharp tops of a hundred tepees stabbed their poles into the cloudless Arapaho sky.

  Daisy, who’d been wearing her pony out by galloping around them, asked, “Have you ever been inside a tepee? I wish I lived in one.”

  “And give up your beautiful home?” Why was no one satisfied with what they had?

  “It’d be so fun. A fire right in the middle, furs on the ground. And in the summer, they’re cooler than the house. They just throw a flap open, and the breeze comes right in.”

  And being next to the river was probably cooler, too, but the sight of tepees still took some time getting used to.

  Riding into town made Louisa nervous. Up and down the sidewalks stood groups of Indians. Most of the men wore white sheets wrapped around them. Here and there was a flash of bronze skin, feathers in dark braids, or leather moccasins, but many of the Indian men preferred to stay hidden and peek out from the gap in their blankets. Others, however, had even less modesty than Louisa’s friends at the Cat-Eye. She gawked at one man walking down the street in nothing but a loincloth and a whole palette of paint decorating his shining skin. Major Adams caught her eye, and she turned away in embarrassment.

  The women wore leather dresses that covered them from neck to ankles. These dresses were adorned with every bauble imaginable—beaded jewelry, bones, ribbons, and rows of oddly shaped white buttons hung from their chest. Louisa appreciated the dramatic mix as only a stage performer could. Wasn’t there a song about a desperate Indian maiden and her lost love?
If she ever found herself on a stage again, she’d love to fashion a costume like these.

  A small population of Indians called Wichita home. They weren’t unknown to Louisa, but she’d never been in the minority like this. And these Indians were different, still speaking their native tongues and retaining their customs. She was truly in a foreign nation. She understood why little Hubert Collins at the ranch had talked about going back to the States.

  Her arms and hands ached from holding so tightly to the reins. The last thing she wanted was for her horse to dart away and embarrass her in front of all the curious onlookers. Of course, none of the Adams family seemed the least concerned. Daisy looked back at the people with equal curiosity, even waving at a tall boy roughly her age, while Caroline stared straight ahead, just as she had since they’d left the fort. Major Adams continually scanned the crowd. Occasionally he’d nod to someone and a sort of greeting would be exchanged, but beyond that, he seemed to be at ease.

  The last few yards to the store were the worst, as she anticipated getting off the horse. Her legs had cramped from their unusual position, but eventually the pain had faded, and now she was just plain numb—as dead as the columns on either side of the stage at the Cat-Eye Saloon. This would not be pretty.

  The girls hopped off their horses like the experts they were. Major Adams looped the reins over the hitching post, making sure to give the horses their space, and then came for her as the girls disappeared into the store.

  “Do you need help?”

  He looked so honest, so helpful, so . . . good. Louisa felt a twinge of conscience. She’d never intended for her performance to mean anything personally. Maybe the major was a good man, but there was nothing she could do to change her course at this point. It was just a pity she had to continue deceiving him.

  “I don’t think I can get down,” she said.

  “That’s why I’m here.” He reached up and took her by the waist. Louisa tried to turn in the saddle, but she couldn’t. “You . . . ah . . .” He lowered his voice. “You’ve got to lift your leg over the horn. It’s holding you in place.”

  Louisa winced as she tried to push life into her useless limb. She gripped the major’s forearms for balance and wrenched her leg free. He lifted her and set her easily on the ground.

  Except her legs just didn’t want to work.

  No sooner had Major Adams released his hold on her than her knees buckled and she started downward.

  “Whoa,” he ordered. The horses at the post flicked their ears at the command, but Louisa was helpless. All she could do was hold on to the man who held her. “I shouldn’t have left you in the saddle that long,” he said. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her up. Her face was pressed against his wool coat, her arms clutching his coat. “You never complained.”

  “It stopped hurting after a while.” She tried again to put weight on her legs, but needles of fire shot up from her feet. She gasped and tightened her hold.

  “You’re in pain,” he said. With a quick movement, he swung her up into his arms.

  Giving in to her appreciation for the dramatic, Louisa laid her cheek against his shoulder. Yes, she should have remained rigid and kept as much room between them as possible, but the romance of the moment swept her away . . . just like the handsome trooper.

  He still smelled good from his morning shave. She fit well in his arms. That was about all she could observe before he lowered her to sit on the edge of the general store’s porch.

  “There you go.” He stepped back, arms akimbo with his fists against his belt, and looked down at her. “And this time you didn’t have to manufacture a faint.”

  “What?” Her warm fog of contentment vanished. Louisa sat up straight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t you?” A dimple was threatening to appear, but his eyes were sharp, waiting for her reaction.

  Forcing herself to look calm, Louisa held her feet out before her and drew circles in the air with her toes. “Perhaps you thought I was feigning an illness, but it didn’t stop you from carrying me, did it?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. His expression registered a new respect. “I suppose we both had a part to play. I just have to wonder what audience you were performing for.”

  Louisa lowered her feet and pressed them firmly against the ground, unsure of where the conversation was leading.

  Seeing her hesitation, he took her by the hand and pulled her upright. When he didn’t release her, she was forced to meet his gaze. He was bending close. So close that her throat bounced with the sudden need to swallow. So close that she saw both curiosity and a hint of fear in his brown eyes. But the dimple had returned.

  “You are a mystery, Miss Bell. And I make it my business to know everything about everything in my territory.”

  What a surprise. Normally just the suspicion of wrongdoing was enough to send his staff into lengthy explanations and apologies. Miss Bell not only defended herself, but she’d turned the tables and accused him of just as serious a deception. It was true. He hadn’t thought twice about sweeping her into his arms that night, and he’d done it again right there at the store. Had Miss Bell exaggerated her inability to stand just then? Had she tried to fool him twice?

  He couldn’t help but smile. What woman would go to such ridiculous lengths? Was he that desirable?

  Daniel had to hide his grin as White Horse spotted him. His long black braids were threaded with leather thongs and beads, and he wore his sheet like a Roman senator, draped gracefully around his body. Daniel felt Miss Bell shrink back at his approach. There was nothing to fear from White Horse. He was a fair man and an honest dealer. Daniel greeted him in the sign language that the tribes used between each other.

  According to White Horse, he was in town to talk to the chiefs. Daniel nodded. The more the Indians self-governed, the more content they were, which he figured was true for just about any group of people.

  It’s the cowboys, White Horse signed. Going up the trail. They have paid for passage through the Cheyenne and Arapaho lands. They say that our people are stealing from them, even though they paid. Arapaho say it is Cheyenne stealing cattle. Cheyenne say the cowboys are lying. They are lazy, and the cows are running away.

  Lives had been lost over less. Monitoring Indian Territory was like watching over a lit match in a hut made of straw while standing in kerosene up to your knees. Disheartened Indians, displaced from their homes and made to live here, didn’t feel the need to play by the U.S. government’s rules. Cowboys only saw open prairie—good grassland for their herds being driven to Kansas. How could someone own something so vast? Why should they pay to merely walk their cattle across it? Outlaws saw an uninhabited kingdom that would hide them from lawmen, and trigger-happy cavalrymen saw a threat in every uninvited rider in the territory.

  All the elements needed for a disaster. And here Daniel was, trying to raise his daughters in the midst of it.

  Do the braves want to fight? he signed.

  White Horse didn’t blink. I’ll talk to the chiefs. The chiefs will fix it.

  That answer didn’t satisfy Daniel. Had his requests for more troops been received? It might be time to send a courier directly. He’d see to it after their shopping. Since he was in Darlington, he could assess the situation for himself.

  He turned to find Miss Bell watching him. The admiration in her eyes was unmistakable. Daniel dropped his gaze. She was a young lady. Younger than him by many years. Several, at least. Well, maybe just a couple, now that he thought about it. Either way, she didn’t need to look at him like that. Not when he was moving heaven and earth to catch her in a lie.

  “Come.” He took her by the arm and escorted her into the shop, where Caroline and Daisy were causing a commotion.

  Caroline had already instructed Mr. Evans to set aside three canisters of candy for her to choose from. Daisy was cradling a baby chick in her hands, holding it up to her face and rubbing its downy yellowness against her cheek. “Can I buy t
his?” she asked when she spotted Daniel.

  Miss Bell bent over the little creature and exclaimed as she stroked its head. “It’s so precious.”

  Daniel’s side felt cold and empty with her gone. Maybe this game of proving her a fraud was going too far. She had her peculiarities, but she’d done them no harm. Daisy loved her, and even Caroline had begun to soften. Should solid evidence appear of some deception, then he’d show no mercy, but for now . . . He watched her caress the chick with a gentle touch.

  He cleared his throat. “We came for material,” he said. “Material and whatever else Miss Bell decides young ladies need. A chick is not on the list.”

  Miss Bell smiled up at him with sparkling eyes. “Don’t be so sure, Major Adams.”

  At that moment, he would’ve bought her a whole henhouse if she’d asked.

  “Maybe next time,” he said finally. “Now, what about their clothing?”

  Miss Bell glided over to the dry goods counter. The way she held her arms, elbows out slightly, hands clasped gently before her, made it a pity there wasn’t an audience to appreciate her every move. What was she doing, hiding away in his house in Indian Territory? She deserved to be admired by the masses, not spend her days sewing dresses for children.

  Miss Bell frowned as she reached the bolts of fabric. Caroline had separated out two. One had flowers all over it, and the other was some sort of plaid. That was as far as his descriptions could go in regard to material.

  “Either one of these would do,” Caroline said, but to his surprise, he realized that she was asking Miss Bell, not telling her. Had she decided Miss Bell might be helpful after all?

  “No, no, no.” Miss Bell rummaged through the bolts. “You are a beautiful young lady with striking coloring. There is no call to hide your light under a basket.” She looked through the limited offerings once, then twice. Then she motioned Mr. Evans over with a wave of her arm. “Excuse me, but where do you keep your finer material?”

  Mr. Evans looked to him. Daniel shrugged.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the storekeeper said. “That is fine material.”