Holding the Fort

by Regina Jennings

  “No, I mean silks, velvets, some brocade or taffeta. Don’t you have any of that?”

  He pushed a thinning lock of hair off his forehead and back into place. “No, ma’am. The white folk who work at this agency generally prefer simplicity.”

  “What about the Indians?”

  Before Daniel could interject, Daisy gave a war whoop. “I’ll wear Indian clothes! That would be splendid.”

  “Not Indian clothes, exactly,” Miss Bell said. “But maybe there’s some colorful trim, lacework, or something to dress up what you already have.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “How about handkerchiefs? I lost my nicest handkerchief on the stagecoach, and I dearly want it replaced.”

  “No, ma’am.” The storekeeper’s finger tapped against the countertop. “We have boots, if you need new boots.”

  Daniel leaned forward. “You do have a tendency to twist your ankle. Maybe something sturdier . . . ?”

  He loved how she turned pink.

  She shook her head. “We’re shopping for the girls, not me.”

  Her heart was in the right place, but even he was getting tired of seeing the same dress day after day. Margaret had always enjoyed getting new fabric to sew a skirt. If Miss Bell needed persuasion, he’d do his best.

  Marching forward with new orders, Daniel pushed all the fabric to the side and cleared a spot. Then he reached for the top bolt and thunked it down in the center of the counter. He unrolled a span of the light brown fabric, then looked at Daisy, at Caroline, and at Miss Bell. “Nope,” he said. He pushed it aside and took the next bolt. This one was a rust color, almost the color of his hair when he was a boy. Before he’d even found the end of the bolt, Miss Bell stopped him.

  “That one is a definite no.” She’d come to stand beside him. Shoulder to shoulder. “I’ve already turned down most of these, but we might have to reconsider.”

  “How about we pick the least offensive?” he said.

  The next bolt held a pale yellow. He studied it, then looked up to meet Miss Bell’s blue eyes. The yellow was cheery, much better suited to her disposition than the ugly gown she wore every day, but she shook her head.

  Taking a handful of her own curls, she held them up. “Blond hair. It just doesn’t suit.”

  “What about the girls?”

  “Too light. They’ll stain it immediately.”

  That made sense. He’d always thought women’s clothing was a matter of folly and whim, but he was learning that there was some strategy after all. And Daniel was all about strategy.

  “How about this?” He held up a dark flowery print. The roses were so tiny, he could barely make out what they were.

  Miss Bell ran her hand over the material. “It’s not as fine as I prefer, but I could dress it up for Caroline.”

  As fine as she preferred? He bit back a smile. Better to leave her pride intact and not mention the hideous thing she’d been wearing.

  Caroline flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t hate it.” Which was as good as he was going to get.

  “Then this will be for Caroline. What would suit my Daisy?”

  “Buckskin,” Daisy cheered.

  “Daisy,” said Miss Bell, “look at this gingham. Don’t you love the blue checks? They’re almost violet.”

  Daisy picked up a string of colorful Indian beads. “As long as I can wear this with it.”

  Miss Bell looked to Daniel. “It really wouldn’t hurt anything,” she said. “She’s only a child.”

  “Fine.”

  Daisy squealed and skipped to the register. In time, they picked another fabric for each girl.

  “Now how about something for you?” Judging by her continual donning of the ugly dress, he assumed that getting her to wear the pretty blue dress he remembered from his accident was out of the question.

  “No, really. I hate to waste my wages on this fabric. It doesn’t seem suitable.”

  “It’s exactly suitable. This is what the women at the agency wear.”

  “But by the time I get the girls’ dresses sewn . . .” She looked at the material, then again at her reticule, which held her money. “I suppose I can’t keep wearing this dress, can I? But you go on. I can do my own shopping.”

  He supposed she was right. Buying clothing for a lady wasn’t appropriate, and if she was paying for the fabric herself, she didn’t have to answer to him.

  Before long, she’d instructed Mr. Evans on the yardage they required, and as he was wrapping the packages, she joined Daisy at the counter of trading goods. Here one could find jewelry and beadwork made by the Arapaho and Cheyenne women. Naturally, the Indians didn’t buy their jewelry from the store, but the mission traded it out for other goods on their behalf, and until it was traded, it was on display.

  And Miss Bell was drawn to it like Daisy was to the candy jars. Her delicate, tapered fingers danced over the beads and shells as if she could only be acquainted with them through touch. She laid hold of a disk the size of a half-dollar, then fished its mate from the grass-woven basket. Grinning, she turned to him and dangled the earrings from either side of her face.

  Daniel had never been torn like this before. Usually his gut led him to the truth, but now his gut had him reaching out and nicking an earring. It swung like a pendulum, bouncing against her cheek, which was still rosy.

  “If I had these,” she said, “they’d be the first real earrings I’d ever owned.”

  “Your other earrings aren’t real?”

  “Imitation.” She set them back in the basket. “Imitation ruby. Imitation emerald. At least the shells aren’t counterfeits.” She stretched out a couple strings of beads and set them with the fabric. “And what are these white beads? I saw them sewed in rows on the Indian women’s dresses.”

  Daniel took one from her hand. His fingers brushed against her open palm. He held the oblong piece before him, enjoying her suspense.

  “These are elk teeth.”

  “Ew!” She dropped the remaining teeth out of her hand into the basket. “We don’t need any of those.”

  He laughed. “I favor the shells.”

  “What about scissors?” she asked. “Needles? Thread? Buttons?”

  Daniel tapped his foot as he tried to recall the whereabouts of Margaret’s sewing kit. “I couldn’t swear to it. You’d better get what you need here.”

  There was a bounce in her step as she left the counter to find a sewing kit and notions. And a smile on his lips as he added the earrings to their growing stack of goodies.

  Chapter Twelve

  If there was one thing Louisa was not looking forward to, it was getting back on that horse. Major Adams buckled their packages onto the back of the saddles while Daisy and Caroline climbed aboard their mounts. Louisa watched carefully to see how Caroline managed her flawless balance while ascending to her seat. And how exactly did she position her legs so that they didn’t go numb? Louisa had felt like an utter and complete ninny when her knees refused to work. If it hadn’t been for Major Adams . . .

  She inhaled deeply, and the dusty road transformed into the cedar scent that came off his coat when he’d carried her. But the fun would end if Major Adams saw through her ruse, and he already had suspicions. Every time they were together, she felt like he was studying her. A casual observer might wonder if he was besotted, but she knew better. To a person with a guilty conscience, it was a heavy burden to work under.

  “Ready to try again?” His honey-colored eyes crinkled with concern. “Let’s make sure you don’t wear yourself out this time.” He fitted his hands around her waist. Louisa grasped his arms and couldn’t fail to notice the play of muscle beneath the coat as he lifted her into place. Many of the characters that Lovely Lola played would have batted their eyes and smiled shyly, as if embarrassed to discover how strong he was. Instead, Louisa took up the reins without even a sigh over how much she enjoyed his help.

  Another thing to dream about when her adventure was over.


  They set off beneath the strong afternoon sun, full from a good meal at the Darlington restaurant and a hundred unique sights she hadn’t imagined before. The colorful streamers of ribbons and beads in the hair of the women. The little girls with their black braids and gingham dresses flying as they played at recess at the reservation school. The solemn baby with giant eyes, strapped on the back of its mother as she came to town to do her shopping. No wonder Daisy felt such a kinship with the tribes. From her limited experiences on the fort, they represented most of the families she knew.

  Even now Daisy was racing ahead, racing behind, her knees clutched to the sides of her horse so that she was controlling it almost entirely by feel.

  Major Adams reined in beside her. “You probably think I should stop her.”

  “She’s a joy to behold.” Louisa pushed the brim of her bonnet back to watch as Daisy streaked past them again.

  “It might not be proper for a lady to ride like that, but there could come a day when she will need to. Caroline puts on fine airs, but should the fort ever come under attack, I know she wouldn’t slow the troops down if we had to evacuate.”

  Louisa scanned the plains around her for hostile forces. “Is that likely?”

  He looked at the tepees at the river’s edge. “Did you notice the broken ones?”

  Louisa shook her head, but with a second look, she could pick out a few crumpled piles with broken poles. “What does it mean?”

  “It means the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers are punishing those who are cooperating with the government. White Horse knows that if they come into his part of the village, he’s to have Agent Dyer call me immediately.”

  “Call you?” Louisa asked. “I’d forgotten the phone.” It was difficult to wrap her head around the contrast of such a modern invention among the tepees, more than one hundred miles from the nearest railroad or town. What kind of world were they living in?

  She shifted in the saddle. The ache had returned.

  Major Adams noticed immediately. “We aren’t that far out. Would you like to walk for a bit?”

  “I’m afraid I’d better, or I might not be able to walk at all later.” She somehow managed to pull on the reins and stop the horse. And when the major lifted her down, she managed not to take too much notice.

  “You’re walking?” Caroline rolled her eyes. “This is going to take forever.”

  “Go on home, then,” the major said. “Tell Gundy we’ll be there for supper.”

  Without changing her stoic expression, Caroline shook her reins, and her horse bolted forward. Just as the major had said, she glided effortlessly on the galloping horse, even while sitting sidesaddle. Daisy’s head popped up as her sister blazed by, and she dug her heels into her pony and took off after her.

  “I’m jealous,” Louisa said. “They make it look so easy.”

  “Practice. Isn’t that what you tell your students?”

  Of course. The myriad students she’d taught over the years.

  A bumblebee zoomed between them. It came back, hovering to inspect her. Louisa shrank away, swatting at it.

  The major laughed. “You don’t want to hit it. It probably wouldn’t hurt you anyway.”

  Louisa shuddered. “My brother has a sensitivity to bees. Seeing what happens to him is enough to give me a deadly fear.”

  “You shouldn’t be afraid,” he said. “Not here. Not with me.”

  Her eyes darted to him. He didn’t understand. For the time being, he was all that stood between her and an uncertain future. If there were anyone she would be afraid of . . .

  “Your probation period is over.” His head was down as if he were embarrassed. “If you enjoy your position here at the fort, I’d like for you to stay.”

  The high grass brushed against the back of her hand as they walked. Louisa had only counted on being a governess for a week, maybe a couple, but why not? She’d come here looking for employment. Did it matter so much that they needed a teacher more than a performer?

  And despite her lack of schooling, the girls did need her, as the day had proved. So did Bradley. He could hardly act irresponsibly when she was at the fort with him. Maybe she could be of help on a more permanent basis. What wouldn’t she do for a home, a family, somewhere safe?

  But the risk. Did she have the courage to remain at her station?

  “I accept your offer,” she said. “I’m honored that you’re putting your trust in me.”

  She was Lovely Lola. She could enchant with her performance and make them love her show. Could she make them love her, though? Because she was already falling in love with this family.

  “I expect you to report in to me regularly with their progress, especially on their basic subjects.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then that’s settled.” He sauntered along, looking more like the cocky horseman she’d seen that first day.

  And she was settled. Not a music teacher, but a real teacher of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Louisa could do this. She could learn and study and keep up with the girls. It was the best offer she had.

  It was the only offer she had.

  They strolled over ground that was strangely absent of rocks or stones. The biggest stumbling blocks were the thick tufts of prairie hay or an occasional rodent hole, but for the most part, she was free to study the wide blue sky above her head. To watch the hawks spiraling above them lazily, until a quick movement caught their attention and they dove with deadly precision.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you the other night when I asked about your family.”

  Louisa hiccupped. She covered her mouth with her hand, but out here on the prairie, there was nowhere to hide from this conversation.

  He continued. “There was a time when it would’ve been painful for me to talk about my family, so I understand.” His gaze settled somewhere beyond the horizon. “My uncle was the only family I ever knew after my parents died.”

  Louisa’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have parents?” She almost cheered before realizing how completely inappropriate that would be. But this meant that he did understand. If he knew about their upbringing, he’d probably be more sympathetic with Bradley. “I never would’ve guessed that we have that in common. I lost my parents, too.” The words poured out with her relief that Major Adams wasn’t so different after all. “Most days, I try not to think about it, but after being here and seeing you with your sweet family, it’s shown me what I missed growing up. But I assumed you came from one of those perfect families that had everything.”

  “Far from it.”

  The brim of Louisa’s sunbonnet swayed as she shook her head. “But you must tell me. It would help me to know . . .” To know she wasn’t the only one from shameful beginnings? To know that he wouldn’t be prejudiced against someone rising up from their past? “. . . to know you better.”

  Was that too forward? Evidently not, because Major Adams’s only response was to start his story.

  “My father died of whiskey poisoning when I was six years old, and my mother of consumption not too long after. I moved to town with my uncle. Luckily for him, he could afford to hire people to take care of me so he didn’t have to dirty his hands.” He kept his voice even, yet Louisa could hear the hurt of an abandoned little boy. At least she’d had Bradley. Major Adams had been alone.

  “When I thought I was old enough to make it on my own, I ran away. I tried life on the streets. I lived with the drifters, hoping to find work for the day to feed myself.”

  Louisa’s heart pounded. She’d been so wrong about him. If anyone understood her journey, Major Adams did.

  “For a while I didn’t care if I lived or died, really,” he said. “I felt like no one cared what happened to me, so why should I? But then one day I met someone who showed me unconditional love.”

  “Your wife?” Louisa asked.

  “No. My God.” He studied the horizon. “I met a God who made me, loved me, gave His Son so that I could know Him. That changed my life. I realized
that I had a purpose, and if staying with my uncle prepared me for my future, then that was what I had to do. My lot might have been hard with my uncle, but at least it saved me from compromising my convictions on the streets.”

  “Oh.” That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Unease began to grow in her heart. He was so earnest, so full of belief. This didn’t bode well for her.

  “You see, we have more in common than you think. We were both orphaned, but we both looked to Christ to redeem our circumstances.”

  Maybe one of them had, but Louisa would have had to get past the church people to meet God, and they weren’t moving out of her way.

  “I’m grateful for how you care for my girls,” he said. “I guess you know how they feel, missing their own dear mother, as you do.”

  Her own dear mother? Not exactly how Louisa would have ever described her. The only impression her mother had left after all these years was a dull, callous spot that protected Louisa from hurtful memories. Besides a missing mother, Louisa’s childhood had nothing in common with the major’s girls.

  But he was waiting for her to make a response. “Your daughters are lucky they have you,” she said.

  “They have me for now, but every time I ride on a campaign, I’m faced with the knowledge that I could be leaving them as orphans. What would become of them? That’s why hearing about your childhood reassures me that you’re the right person for the job.”

  “Why am I the right person?” she asked.

  “Because of all that you’ve accomplished. You were orphaned, but you didn’t turn to sin for easy money. With your beauty and charm, it would’ve been natural for you to rely on your looks, but you took the high road. You eschewed low connections, stayed away from unladylike professions.” He’d turned and faced her full on. “Despite your humble circumstances, you managed to procure an education, refined habits, and make something of yourself. Look at you, Miss Bell. You are a genteel, educated woman. That’s something to be proud of.”

  The sharp wind stung her skin, just as tears stung her eyes. This was worse than she’d thought possible. Nothing he admired about her was authentic. What excuse could she ever offer to the man who’d come from the same situation without stain?