All or Nothing

by Ashley Elizabeth Ludwig

  “You and Bowen?” Dolly teased. The pain in RuthAnne’s aching heart reached her eyes. “You love him, Ruthie. It’s plain to see.”

  “I feel like I’ve known him forever. Like our time here is so short and if I don’t do something, I’ll lose him. But something stops me from saying so, every time.”

  “Fear?” Dolly’s question hung in the air.

  Was it? RuthAnne didn’t think so. “It’s more likely to be hope. He seems to be immune to hope of any nature. Anyway, I can’t sit around and wait for him to decide. There’s a whole world out there I’ve yet to see. Family Mara and I have yet to find; Evan’s family Bible is full of names and places we’ve never been. I’m going to search them out. Tell them what happened to him. Help him to rest. Then we can see about finding a place to call our own. Build a shop for ladies, like Mara and I always talked about.”

  Dolly smacked herself on the forehead. “I almost forgot to tell you. I had a visit yesterday evening. From Miss Amanda Carington. Katie and I were at the store when she came in to post a wire. Seems she’s in love with a librarian from San Francisco. They’ve been writing each other most regularly, Whit says. Anyway, we got to talking about the dances and your skill with a needle. The whole place was talking about how you remade that dress into a showstopper. People keep asking after you, wanting your help.” She took a breath, cheeks pink with excitement while she let the news sink in.

  “Seems Amanda’s got a trunk full of dresses that she’s giving you to start your own business. You can re-cut the material for any lady at the fort who wants to wear them. What do you think?”

  RuthAnne’s mind was spinning. What did she think? It sounded like a business proposition. Like the shop that she and Mara had dreamed about when Evan was having them slave their fingers to the bone. “That’s amazing...”

  “Not only that, Whit is going to throw in patterns and notions for a small percentage of your profit. My dear, if you want out of this man’s army, it seems you’ve already developed quite a following.”

  “I don’t know what to say!”

  “Well, say it’s an answer to your prayers, sweetie. Because it looks like this is your lucky day.”

  Chapter 27

  The work detail left in a cloud of dust the next morning. Dawn’s silvery glow painted the harsh landscape, softening its edges. They rode east into the sun, a company of thirty men singing a cadence to get their blood flowing.

  Bowen sat atop General watching their progress with a scowl on his chiseled face, eyes shielded by the wide brim of his hat. The squads each fell into line, a wave of blue uniforms, black leather boots, and swishing tails of their well-groomed mounts. The large, blue, army ambulance wagon that followed was packed to the gills with picks, shovels, rifles, and ammunition. There was no mistake about it, Bowen thought. Though it may have appeared so on the surface, this band was not on a mission of mercy. Should they find their quarry near the rockslide blocking the road, they would be loaded for bear.

  They’d be a sight to behold as they made their way back east, toward the Reddington Pass where they would clear the road. The post commander had no interest in any happenings around the fort that didn’t directly enforce his further promotion. As captain, Bowen was often given the menial tasks of community service, outreach, and ensuring safe passage of the good citizens of Tucson as they made their way east or further west. Scouting trips into the Chiricahuas were growing farther between, and though he had a tentative cease-fire in place, relations between the Apache and cavalry were again growing tense. Bowen’s plan had fallen into place. Clearing the road was the perfect guise for capturing this criminal.

  “Well, don’t you look like the cat that swallowed the canary?” Ross said. He had kicked his horse into a faster gait to keep pace with Bowen.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Given any more thought to that pretty laundress, Captain?” Ross’s smile was tooth-filled and full of good nature.

  “Truth? I can’t get her out of my head, Ross, but if you repeat that, I’ll deny it.” Bowen punctuated his statement with a dark look in MacEvoy’s direction.

  Ross held up a gloved hand in defense. “She won’t hear it from me. But just so you know, married women are a lot less high-strung. Once they know they’ve got you, they tend to settle down quite a bit.”

  “Is that so? I seem to remember Josie threatening to tan your hide if you don’t take your leave tomorrow. I signed the order. You’ve got your two weeks of marital bliss, Sergeant.”

  Ross laughed in earnest. “She knew she’d married a soldier with wanderlust when she said her I do’s.”

  They leaned in and rode up a sharp hill, rocks skittering under the horses’ hooves. The landscape changed from the scrubby brush of the lowlands to the reaching saguaros and palo verde trees as they forded the rills and arroyos of the outer foothills. A band of coyotes eyed them watchfully. Bowen caught sight of five pups that darted into a den ahead of their mother. Above, hawks were circling in the updrafts of the mountain, hunting. He was set to do some hunting of his own as they continued up the pass road, in search of a killer.

  ****

  RuthAnne checked her countenance in the polished mirror before she left her quarters. Her jaw was set in a hard line of determination, which she rubbed, trying to soften. No sense in looking like she was going to the executioner! Her cheeks were pink and eyes bright blue but dark and hollowed underneath from a poor night’s sleep. Her hair was neatly pinned up, a few loose curls around her long neck and shoulders framing the square neckline of her bodice.

  She had adjusted the brown calico dress to be more fitted at the waist than had its previous owner and had pinned a starched white apron to her front. Matronly, she sighed, was the best she could muster. Perhaps given a few weeks salary, she could have pieced together a suit that would make heads turn all over the fort, men and women alike! But truthfully, she didn’t have the time or inclination anymore. And this was a conversation she had been dreading since her last talk with Bowen.

  She strode across the parade ground to the office of the quartermaster. It was the first time since she’d been at the fort that there had been any activity in that area. She wondered if she was being overly presumptuous by simply appearing without an appointment. Still, she was doing her part to make sure Bowen was able to catch his man by calling for the delivery of her wares across the mountain pass. Wasn’t that what she had agreed to do? She prayed quickly that their ruse wouldn’t bring anyone into harm’s way.

  Crossing the threshold of the quartermaster’s depot office, she entered another world. Papers were stacked upon tables. Ledgers were open and dusty. It was obvious that no one had been in these offices for quite some time. A dark-haired young man sat in the desk chair, head in hands. There was obviously more to do than he knew where to begin. RuthAnne’s heart went out to him.

  “Good day, sir.”

  He looked up, startled by her gentle voice, knocking over one of the piles of pages. They floated to the floor like snowflakes, scattering in the warm breeze that came in from open windows. Quickly, she helped him gather them up, and the two bumped heads in the process. RuthAnne sat down on the wood plank floor with a thud. They both found themselves laughing.

  “Good day to you, miss.” He smiled. A streak of dust ran across his nose. Other than that, he was clean shaven. Dark eyes were obviously tired but full of good humor.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.”

  “Just entirely too focused on learning the tasks of this office. Miss...”

  “Newcomb. It’s missus, actually. Not miss. I’m widowed...” She stumbled over her tongue. This man was so handsome, so approachable. She hadn’t found it hard to speak with a man since Evan courted her. How odd this soldier should send her thoughts that direction.

  “Well, Newcomb—it’s missus—actually.”

  He was teasing her! RuthAnne blushed fiercely, feeling like a schoolgirl, which seemed to please this man e
ven more. “I’m Marcus Carington. Most recently titled Quartermaster, though I’m sincerely considering abandoning my commission. Have you ever seen such a disaster?”

  “No, I can’t say I have. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine if you can get my head out of these ledger books. We have a good year’s worth of non-action around here and a fort full of soldiers in need of just about everything. I’ve got requisition requests aplenty in that crate by the front door; the last date I saw was from two months ago. A requisition asking for more paper!” He knelt, going through pages of letters of request before he let them rain down back into the box. He laughed, and she found it easy to join in. “I’m afraid I don’t know quite where to begin.”

  “I’d be happy to help however I can. Organization has always been a skill of mine.”

  “Be my guest, Newcomb. Have at it.”

  She scanned the room as he watched after her, arms folded across his chest, bemused expression on his lean face. It didn’t take much to identify the system that had been in place underneath the rubble of so much neglect. There was a ledger of accounts, a file full of receipts to be logged, and along with the demands for supplies, there was also a listing of items that had been ordered. She identified Evan’s name most readily.

  “If I might be so bold, the first item would be to prioritize the requests from your men. They’ve been lacking most of the items of necessity. I hear it every day at the laundry. They’re short on ammunition, wearing boots with soles held on by tack nails, and are most desperately in need of...” She hesitated.

  “Of what, Newcomb?” He was obviously enjoying himself immensely. “Spit it out.”

  “Well, of new uniforms. They’ve been ordered and sent halfway here...”

  “Halfway?” His gaze narrowed a bit in suspicion before widening. “How could you know all of this just by rifling through some pages?”

  RuthAnne gave a sheepish shrug. “It isn’t from this. It’s the reason I’m here, sir.” She explained her position. That she and her husband had fulfilled a contract sent by his predecessor. He listened to her in awe.

  “And now the shipment is in crates, stored at the depot, waiting for an army transport to bring it here. I’ve got the claim checks to prove it.” She finished with a sigh.

  “All this time. Just sitting there.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “And you came on ahead...but explain to me how a talented businesswoman like you ended up working in the laundry?” His eyes were full of mirth. He seemed almost giddy, not a haggard man without any idea how to start his work anymore. She was pleased she’d been able to help at least that much.

  The door opened just as she began her explanation. Megan and Amanda Carington swept through and grabbed their brother, squealing with delight. They gathered around him in their brushed silk dresses, one of yellow, the other of pale pink. Each was more appropriate for wandering a boardwalk or attending a concert than traipsing over the dusty parade grounds. RuthAnne knew they must have primped for Marcus. Amanda looked a bit faint from the heat, but she was obviously thrilled to see her brother.

  “Just wait until Mother gets a hold of you.” Megan pouted. It was far from becoming on her olive-skinned face, leaving her looking frightfully angry. “You’re not on her best side since you reenlisted. She was counting on you to come and care for her in San Francisco. Marry some rich newspaperman’s daughter.”

  “Now, angel. I’m a grown man, and Mother doesn’t make my decisions for me. There’s a fortune to be had in the territories for a few more years yet. Then she’ll see me settling down with a lovely young lady for a wife. Maybe even this one here.” He winked at RuthAnne.

  “RuthAnne? She’s hired help! Mother would pitch a fit for sure. That’s a good one, Marcus.” Megan snorted.

  Amanda flashed a genuine smile in RuthAnne’s direction. “I think it would be lovely.”

  “Amanda!” Megan didn’t seem to care for this at all. “You forget yourself. You’ll give the poor girl a delusion. RuthAnne, you understand, we all must remember our stations. Even in the wilds of Arizona.”

  “Oh, of course. I know my station quite well. I’d best get back to it. Don’t hesitate to bring your dirty clothes by for me to launder, Megan. Quartermaster, you know where to find me once you’re ready to discuss that other matter. I’d best be going.”

  Marcus knitted his brows in apology and held the door open for her. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Newcomb. I look forward to discussing our arrangement as soon as I figure out what it’s all about.”

  She handed him the ledger that cataloged the order from the previous spring. “I’ve marked the page. And I look forward to next time. Good day.”

  She left, hearing the agitation in Megan’s piercing voice. “What do you mean arrangement?”

  Sighing, RuthAnne went on her way. She hoped Megan Carington would bring her dirty laundry. It may not have been the most Christian of thoughts, but RuthAnne knew just where she’d hang that girl’s britches out to dry.

  Chapter 28

  Marcus watched his sisters with curiosity. They wanted something, or they wouldn’t have bothered themselves coming to his office.

  Megan seemed to fall into a blue funk after RuthAnne’s departure. She idly ran her finger along a dusty shelf; she frowned at the result then at her sister. “How can you be so nice to her? She’s nothing to us, Mandy.”

  “Nothing but kind and sweet and good-natured.” Amanda straightened her shoulders.

  Marcus noticed Amanda drew her breaths in shallow puffs. He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing softly. “Corset too tight, baby sister?”

  She smiled and sighed. “This was Megan’s idea. I’ve been meaning to ask Ruth...well, I’ve been meaning to ask to have some new dresses cut. Once Mother gives me my allowance.”

  “You had beautiful dresses! A trunk full! And what did you do? You gave them all to that woman. It’s a travesty, Mandy, and when Mama finds out...”

  This is precisely why remote army life had been so inviting, Marcus thought, coming between them, hands up. “Ladies, please. Why don’t you take conversations about clothes and powder and other sundry items out to the post store and let your poor brother get back to work.”

  Megan peered at the stacks of papers with distaste; thumbing through a few pages she turned a cynical eye toward her brother. “You’re in over your head this time, aren’t you? At least the army is clearing the pass so that you can get some supplies through from the east.”

  “Who said they’re opening the pass?” Marcus bumped the desk and knocked over a stack of ledgers, cursing softly under his breath as he knelt to gather them.

  Megan blinked vacantly, with no offer to help. “Some soldier who was helping Mother move in a new stove. He mentioned they were heading out this morning.” She continued in earnest. “The whole company was going! He was thankful he wasn’t one of them, since there’d been rumors of thieves about. That bandit, El Tejano, specifically. You remember the stories about him, don’t you, Amanda.”

  Amanda pieced a book back together and handed it to her brother. “Megan, you promised you wouldn’t speak of it!”

  “Wouldn’t speak of what?” Marcus saw the look passing between his sisters and knew he had missed something. “What would you two caged birds know about bandits?”

  Megan squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest. “I know enough. El Tejano’s got over one hundred thousand dollars hidden away in the hills outside of town. Out east, most likely. Private O’Donnell says he watches and waits for the Wells Fargo stagecoaches. And other coaches. He steals whatever he wants and kills anyone who’d dare stop him. And he wears a mask so no one can see his face. He sounds absolutely fascinating...”

  “He sounds terrifying! You heard poor RuthAnne...” Amanda fanned her face, glowing with perspiration.

  Marcus herded them toward the door. “Now, you two have gone batty. What on earth would RuthAnne know about
him?”

  They answered him with blank faces and silence. He didn’t have time for this.

  His expression darkened. “Bandits! Masks! Rumors.”

  “But, Marcus!” Megan said.

  He closed his ledger with a slam, and the girls jumped in unison. “Women, get out of this office,” he ordered and hustled them to the porch and gave them both sound hugs and kisses on the forehead. He had some thinking to do.

  Hours later, Marcus closed his ledger book. His thoughts were on the winsome RuthAnne Newcomb. What an astounding set of circumstances this was turning out to be. If Captain Shepherd indeed was overseeing the opening of the pass, then he would telegram the La Junta Depot that very day and send for her things. They would be there within the month, along with payroll, supplies, and a hefty amount of silver waiting for delivery. He’d be indebted to her more than she could possibly imagine.

  Chapter 29

  Wringing out yet another shirt, RuthAnne’s hands were cracked, fingers pruned from being immersed in water all day. She gritted her teeth, watching the clear water drip into her basin. Suds free. This one was ready to hang. She had buried herself in her methodical tasks of the day. One after the other, she marked each of the soldiers’ names from her list.

  Almost in time to the cadences called on the parade ground outside, she unpacked dusty, sweat-stinking clothes from stuffed canvas bags, separated and dumped each into the water; pants first, as those took longest to dry. She immersed them completely with the aid of her large wooden paddle.

  The cool morning air had melted into the oven-like August afternoon. No clouds would bring reprieve this day as the chatty row of laundresses went about their tasks. Their babbling was background noise for the action at hand. Soap skipped across the dark fabric, musically scratching, with a little extra on the stains. Then it was plunge, scrub, turn, and repeat, until she’d scraped her knuckles raw on the washboard.