She suddenly felt tired and ready to climb back in the saddle. Anything to end this conversation. She’d rather have numb legs than an aching heart.
Daniel was growing increasingly frustrated, but he didn’t know who bore the blame—Miss Bell or himself. The more he tried to get to know her, the more confused he became. He’d decided to go with his gut and give her the benefit of the doubt, but his intellect opposed him at every turn. What was at the bottom of her many inconsistencies?
Daniel handed their horses’ reins to the private who rushed from the stables to collect them as Miss Bell limped into the house. What should have been a compliment had ruffled her feathers, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Perhaps he’d insulted her family with the comparison to his. If so, she could have corrected him or at least discouraged him from blabbing on. He’d never told anyone else on the fort anything so personal. And what did she do when he bared his soul? Clammed up and moped her way home.
Well, it wasn’t over. Here was just another question she’d have to answer. Another reason he wished Agent Dyer had been in his office when they visited Darlington.
From the adjutant’s office, Lieutenant Hennessey appeared. He beelined straight for Daniel with a folded paper in his hand. Official business.
“You’ve got a guest.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened. People didn’t come this far without a strong inclination to stir up trouble, and he was out of patience. He opened the paper and frowned.
“Not a guest, a prisoner.” He handed the paper back to Jack. “I should leave him in the guardhouse to rot.”
“Oh no. He’s already sent in his meal request to Private Gundy. He even asked me for a razor so he could get spiffed up for dinner.”
“I thought after David Payne died that this nonsense would end, but no, Frisco has got to keep their empty hopes alive.” Daniel looked at the house. “Tell him I’ll send for him when dinner is ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Jack, you might as well come, too. I’m sure there’ll be enough for everyone.”
Jack’s eyes darted to the side. His voice lost its military tone at the subject change. “Thank you, Daniel. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’d rather have some time to myself tonight.”
“Did you get another letter?”
He nodded. “My ma says Hattie’s parents are determined that she’s going to marry that man.” He shrugged. “Maybe I never had a shot, but I wish I had made my case before I left home and enlisted.”
“I could give you a leave of absence. Find her. Propose. You won’t know unless you try.”
“She’d laugh me out of the county. No, it’s been too long. All that’s left is for me to feel like a dolt and wonder what could’ve been.”
“Then you can do better,” Daniel said. “If she doesn’t appreciate you, you’ll find someone who does.” He had worked with Jack for three years now and feared that no woman Jack would ever meet would measure up to his youthful infatuation with Miss Hattie Walker. Jack had held out hope that someday he’d return and win her hand, but the letter from home made it appear unlikely. Hopefully he’d get over her soon. Then again, getting over a woman wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
Daniel repeated his invitation, then bid Jack good-bye and headed to the house. Had he gotten over Margaret yet? It wasn’t like that with her. He’d loved her deeply, truly, and without reserve. He’d mourned her death hard, sorrow triggered by a thousand different things a day. But that sorrow had mellowed. Now the memories brought more joy than pain, his deepest regret being that his daughters couldn’t remember the fine woman she’d been.
Was he over her death? Yes. The strongest feelings remaining were the memories of love shared and burdens divided. Good memories that made him yearn for a companion again. It would never be the same, but life continued. He would make the best of the situation and carry on.
Only his situation wasn’t the best right now.
Getting a governess for the girls—someone they could learn from and emulate—had been his goal. He knew that without their mother, they were missing out on an important part of life. Never had he expected Miss Bell to reveal what he’d been missing, too.
He entered the house, stopped at his office long enough to toss his hat on the desk, and looked at the chessboard. Another piece had been moved, but supper was waiting. He headed to the dining room, where instead of their nice china and silver, brown paper packages littered the table. Caroline snipped a string. It had barely popped apart before Daisy ripped through the paper.
“It’s the gingham. This one is mine!”
“Two more to go.” Caroline’s eyes sparkled. Finally, something she was excited about. Daniel leaned against the doorway to soak up the moment. It had been the right thing to do, taking them out today. They would do it more often. Hopefully Miss Bell wouldn’t oppose the idea, even if the day had ended on a sour note.
He straightened and looked around. “Where is Miss Bell?”
Caroline held some material beneath her chin and gave him a dazzling smile. “Doesn’t this color look good? I wouldn’t have thought about it with my red hair, but Miss Bell . . .” She lowered the material. “I didn’t see her come in, but maybe she went upstairs. I wonder whose dress she’s going to sew first. It should be mine. I’m about to pop the buttons on my—”
Daniel held up his hand. This was not a conversation he wanted to hear. “You girls get this table cleaned off and then put the place settings out. Mr. Smith is a guest of the base again tonight, so set an extra place.”
“He got arrested again?” Daisy looked at Caroline, then dissolved into giggles.
“Really, Daisy,” Caroline huffed. “You’re the one who can’t control herself, yet you claim that I set my cap for everyone.”
“At least I didn’t drop my glove for that handsome private today,” Daisy answered.
Another conversation Daniel would rather skip. “Get the table cleared, and then get yourselves cleaned up. Miss Bell won’t appreciate sharing a dinner table with dusty young ladies,” he said on his way out of the room.
When he got to the top of the staircase, he moved to stand in front of Miss Bell’s door. Maybe having a widowed woman twice his age would have made the living arrangements less awkward, but what was he supposed to do with Miss Bell? Stand at the foot of the stairs and yell her name when he needed to talk to her? He might treat his troopers like that, but never a lady.
Making up his mind, he knocked on the bedroom door. “Miss Bell, may I have a word with you?”
He heard a door close inside. Her wardrobe, no doubt. Then the knob turned, and she appeared, the door only open wide enough for her face to be pressed into the crack. She didn’t say a word. Only looked at him with eyebrows high.
“I came to tell you that a Mr. Smith will be joining us for dinner. He’s the orneriest scalawag you’ll ever meet, but he knows what’s going on in the Unassigned Lands. I find him useful. If he offends you, I will hold him accountable. Of that you can be sure.”
“A scalawag?” Her blue eyes caught his. “He probably associates with all tiers of the lower class.”
What was she getting at? “He most certainly does associate with scoundrels, ma’am. So be on your guard.”
Her face still looked sorrowful, but resigned. “Yes, sir. By suppertime, my guard will be back in place, and we’ll have an enjoyable evening. Until then . . .”
She eased the door closed, leaving Daniel staring at the white painted panels.
Chapter Thirteen
What are you going to wear?” Daisy’s voice could be heard through the open window in Louisa’s room. “Frisco Smith always says something about the way we’re dressed.”
“I wish we’d had time to sew our new dresses,” Caroline grumbled. “Father should’ve taken us shopping months ago.”
For once, Louisa was apt to grumble along with Caroline. She’d worn the same dress every day for nearly two weeks. H
er only respite had been on Sunday, when she kept to the house in a dressing gown. Like Caroline, the thought of the new material made her old clothes insufferable. Maybe a guest, even a scalawag, presented a special occasion? Didn’t ladies dress up for special occasions? Couldn’t she find some combination in her wardrobe that would be suitable?
The most demure skirt she owned was the red taffeta. Yes, it caught the light and rustled, but it had no bustle. Only very simple lines that dignified the color. But the white blouse she usually paired with it would not serve. The collar hung right at the edge of her shoulders and the neck scooped low enough that someone could tell exactly how long she could hold a fermata just by looking. The shawl she’d purchased at Darlington that morning might be her salvation. If she could fashion it with a brooch, then she’d only be showing an acceptable amount of flesh for the major’s unpolluted table.
With the fichu pinned tightly beneath her neck and the ends arranged over her bosom, she was ready. Part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind. Show her true colors and see if the major thought her as fine of a lady after that. But there was still her brother to consider. Until she was sure that he was back in the major’s good graces, she mustn’t give up her post.
The front door creaked. Lieutenant Jack’s voice could be heard. Louisa left her room and rapped on the girls’ door. This was her chance to instruct the girls in something she knew more about—making a gentleman feel welcome.
“Our guest has arrived,” she said. “Time to come down.”
Judging from the pitch of the girls’ voices, they were frantically trying to get ready. No sense in standing at the door waiting. Louisa double-checked to make sure her fichu was in place and then descended the staircase.
Major Adams stood with his arms crossed, looking as welcoming as Tim-Bob when the temperance ladies tried to get inside the Cat-Eye Saloon. Their guest had stopped inside the door, his hat set at a rakish angle and dark curls spilling down his neck as he held out his manacled wrists.
“Honestly, Daniel, I don’t see why you make Jack lock me up like this. We both know I’m no danger.”
The rattle of the iron cuffs might have been unfamiliar to the nice parlor, but it wasn’t to Louisa. More than one member of her audience had been escorted out under duress.
“On the fort, you are a prisoner, and I don’t want any of my men to forget it,” Major Adams said. “Only in my house are you a guest.”
Major Adams turned suddenly, as if he hadn’t heard her coming down. At seeing her dress, he couldn’t blink away his shock. His reaction embarrassed Louisa, but their guest seemed to enjoy the major’s surprise.
“My, my, my, Daniel.” Mr. Smith whistled, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischievousness. “Who do we have here?”
“Miss Bell, may I introduce Mr. Frisco Smith. A career criminal who has spent his young life being strongly influenced by people of poor character.”
Lieutenant Hennessey succeeded in removing the manacles just in time for Frisco Smith to sweep off his hat and bow deeply. “And now I’m the one with poor character doing the influencing. So beware.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “I’ll set these here by the door. Let me know when you’re done with him. Oh, and the laundress found this in your coat pocket.” Jack waved a small, lumpy envelope. “I’ll leave it on your desk.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? See what Frisco has to say for himself?” the major asked.
“No, thank you. My time would be better spent reading a book.” With a tip of his hat, Jack fled.
Major Adams looked Louisa over as if he’d expected her to have changed while he wasn’t paying attention. “Miss Bell is the governess for my daughters,” he informed Frisco. “Keep in mind that you’re in the presence of a lady.”
Frisco tossed his hat into the major’s office, letting it land with a gentle plop on his desk. “What do your daughters need a governess for? Isn’t Miss Caroline grown? It seems like the last time I saw her, she was marrying age.”
Louisa had to choke down a giggle. No wonder Major Adams had warned her about this man. He seemed determined to do everything in his power to upset the poor major.
“Miss Adams is not of marrying age, as every man on this base is made aware before they set foot on Fort Reno soil. She is a child, and I am her father. Do you understand?”
Frisco’s youthful face showed not a hint of fear. “I do hope when I have daughters, they are homely.”
“Undoubtedly they will be,” Major Adams said.
“Otherwise, what would I do when they run into fellows like me?” He winked at Louisa. Then he stilled. “Wait a minute. Don’t I know you?”
Louisa’s fingers went cold. She stepped closer to the banister and gripped it to steady herself. “We’ve never met.”
“We’ve never been introduced,” Frisco said, “but I’m sure we’ve met. I don’t forget a face. Have you spent time in Kansas, by any chance?”
Major Adams shot her a warning glance. She was more than happy to let him do the talking, because there was little she could say at the moment. “Miss Bell is from Wichita, but it is unlikely that she’s associated with your kind.”
“Wichita? Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you, but I can’t place you. Give me time,” he said. “It’ll come to me.”
Why hadn’t she worn the ugly dress just once more? Even covered with a shawl, her clothes were too fine for this job. Too close to what she really was. Louisa glanced up the stairs, but running away would only cause more questions. With her stomach churning, she forced herself to remain. Maybe Mr. Smith wouldn’t say anything else.
Caroline and Daisy raced down the stairs. Daisy threw herself into Frisco’s arms and asked if he’d brought her a present. Caroline hung back, waiting to be acknowledged, although impatient that he should do so.
“You look very nice tonight.” Major Adams had come to stand at Louisa’s side. “Such fine clothes. Why have you hidden them until now?”
Louisa smoothed her skirt. The red taffeta rustled beneath her palms. “I didn’t think they were appropriate for a governess.”
He had to recognize the brooch as the one she’d just purchased. Then he followed her collarbone to where the fichu ended and her bare shoulder peeked out. He looked at her face again, as if she should be aware that something was happening. But what? Did he see something of beauty in her, or was he merely judging her suitability in training his daughters? If only she knew what he was thinking.
Without saying a word, he tugged the edge of her shawl over her shoulder. His fingers brushed against her bare skin as he arranged the covering. With the girls happily chatting with Frisco, no one else noticed the exchange, but Louisa felt it to her bones.
“Perfectly suitable for an evening dance, but perhaps too fine for dinner.”
“The red skirt?” she asked.
“The shoulder,” he answered. His eyes twinkled as if they’d shared a private joke, but then they settled again. “Have you recovered from your injury of this afternoon?”
His expression made it clear he wasn’t referring to her saddle soreness.
“I apologize,” she said. “I’m usually quite adept at controlling my emotions.”
“If I knew how I offended you . . .”
“No offense. Let’s leave the past in the past.”
“But such recent past?” There was that look again. As if he was trying to read her mind. “And if we are going to abide each other in the future . . .”
“Pa, let’s eat.” Taking him by the cuff, Daisy tried to pull him away.
“Patience, child,” he said. “Patience rewards those who wait.” With a last meaningful look, he turned to direct everyone to dinner.
Louisa sat in her usual place opposite the major, but Daisy had to scoot down so that Frisco could sit at her father’s right hand with Caroline across from him. Once everyone took their seats, Louisa got another good look at their guest. The name Frisco Smith didn’t ring any bells. Despit
e his confidence, he was very young. He wouldn’t have been to the Cat-Eye Saloon in years past. He had to have seen her recently. Recently enough that the memory would return soon. What would she do? She couldn’t call him a liar. Major Adams might not care for him, but Louisa couldn’t slander him. She took the tureen of soup, set it down, and ladled out a bowl for herself. She’d just have to hope he didn’t come back to the issue.
“If your soldiers had given us just a few more hours, we’d have had some good wells dug over on the Canadian River south of Mustang Creek. That looks like some good farmland. Good for orchards, too.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you,” Major Adams said. “How many did you bring with you this time?”
“Three dozen. Most of them are repeaters, but a handful are first-timers. And there’s more coming. This is going to happen.”
The hot soup loosened Louisa’s throat, and her curiosity wouldn’t be held back any longer. The whole situation was so strange. “What exactly did you get arrested for?” she asked.
Frisco’s smile lit up the room. “For being an industrious individual and a community leader.”
“For squatting on government property,” Major Adams said. “He leads settlers into the Unassigned Lands to stake homesteads, which is purely illegal.”
“Those lands are unassigned, and it’s about time someone made use of them.”
“I thought all the land in the territory belonged to the Indian tribes,” Louisa said.
“No, ma’am.” Frisco leaned forward, obviously needing little inducement to speak on the subject. “To our north and west is the Cheyenne and Arapaho Reservation. That’s their land now, but there’s still land available. And there are other people who’ve been run off their homes, too. Not just the Indians.”
“Who else is being kicked out of their homes?” Louisa asked. With the war a score of years behind them, she hadn’t heard of people losing their property in a long time.
Holding the Fort Page 14
