Only in My Arms

by Jo Goodman

  Rennie pulled Mary forward to join her on the balcony. "Isn't she surpassingly lovely?" she asked Jarret.

  Jarret wondered how he was supposed to answer that. It was an undeniable truth that Mary Francis Dennehy was beautiful, even when she was looking mortified by her sister's outrageous question. Jarret was aware that it was an expression he'd never glimpsed on her face before. A moment later he realized the faint blush tinting her cheeks was also new. He continued his scrutiny, his eyes grazing over Mary's short curling crop of hair, the perfect oval of her face, the long slender neck, and then... His eyes flew back to meet hers, and this time he found himself on familiar ground. She was boring holes into him with those fierce, forest green eyes, just daring him to make a misstep so she could take him out at the knees.

  Self-preservation prompted Jarret to bound up the iron stairs of the rail car's balcony and greet Mary Francis with a warm hug and dry humor. "I almost didn't recognize you until I felt body parts being threatened."

  Mary's head tilted to one side as she looked at her brother-in-law consideringly—and with no lessening of the mock threat. She had once, in all seriousness, threatened to break his knees if he ever hurt her sister. "Well, you shouldn't be looking at me as if I've grown another head," she said tartly.

  "I know that look he gave you," Rennie said mischievously, "and it had nothing to do with growing another head." She gave her husband a knowing glance. "He usually reserves that gleam for me."

  "You asked a very particular question," Jarret reminded her innocently. "I was arriving at an opinion."

  "And that is?" asked Rennie.

  "I don't want to hear this," said Mary.

  Jarret laughed. "My opinion is that my wife, as usual, is right. She always said you were the real beauty of the family, and I'm not going to argue with her."

  The perfect symmetry of Mary's features was broken as she screwed her mouth to one side and rolled her eyes.

  Rennie rose on tiptoe and kissed her husband's cheek. "I thought you were wonderfully diplomatic, dear. It was a very nice compliment to both of us."

  "She would think that," Mary said dryly to Jarret. "She'd rather be right than beautiful any day."

  Over the top of Rennie's head, Jarret's response was a wink and a smug smile.

  * * *

  They were all settled in the open carriage when Rennie announced there had been a change of plans. "We're being escorted by an Army patrol to Fort Union. We've been staying there for a week now, and the general gave approval for both of you to be our guests."

  Moira paused in the game of pat-a-cake she was playing with Lilly. "That's fine, Rennie, but why?"

  "We moved from Phoenix to Tucson after the surveys were all complete. Jarret and I thought it would be close enough to Holland Mines to oversee the track construction, but it really isn't. And the trip, well, it can be"—she hesitated, looked at her daughters, then spelled—"d-a-n-g-e—"

  "I think we get your point," Mary said, ruffling Caitlin's hair. The little girl held a parasol aloft to protect both of them from the brutal midday sun. Even in the middle of December the temperature at noon was approaching ninety-five degrees. "Here comes our escort."

  Five men on horseback wearing blue Army uniforms drew abreast of the carriage as it left the station area. The corporal took the lead while Lieutenant Rivers introduced himself to Moira and Mary as he rode along beside them. Three privates took up points at the rear.

  Moira glanced around at their escort. "Is this really necessary, Rennie?"

  Jarret answered, turning around from his perch on the driver's board. "It is, Moira."

  Rennie reinforced her husband's comment. "We stayed at Holland Mines for a while, living at the camp in a tent with the miners and the rail laborers. We decided to move to Fort Union after the Chiricahua attacked a mining camp a little farther east of here. We still stay there when work warrants it, but without the girls."

  Mary was aware that Caitlin was watching her mother intently, listening hard to every word. Mary caught her sister's eye and gave a quick shake of her head.

  Rennie sighed, nodding in understanding. "What one of them doesn't hear, the other one does," she said. "It's hard. You know I was never good at guarding my tongue."

  Jarret caught that comment and laughed. "Well, it would take more than these five Army regulars to do it."

  Reaching behind her, Rennie gave her husband a firm slap on the back. "Mind your own business," she said, but there was no real sting in her words.

  Mary and Moira exchanged their first spontaneous smiles in over two months and two thousand miles.

  Rennie saw their shared laughter and was satisfied that the situation was not quite as grim as Jay Mac would have had her believe. "I think you'll both appreciate the accommodations at Fort Union. A number of the officers' wives have gone out of their way to make us feel at home. You'll be amazed at the collection of furniture and carpets that's been hauled across country. General Gardner's wife has a baby grand piano in her parlor, and Captain Avril and his wife practically have a library in their quarters."

  Moira pointed to Lieutenant Rivers who had pulled ahead to converse with Jarret. "Does he have a wife?" she asked, not bothering to lower her voice.

  Rennie watched Mary's mouth tighten at their mother's less than subtle interest. She felt a tug of sympathy for her older sister's position. She remembered too well what it was like when Jay Mac had tried to find her a husband. Rennie didn't doubt that Moira could be just as tenacious. "No, Mama," she said, winking at Mary. "Lieutenant Rivers isn't married."

  Lieutenant Rivers heard the comment as he was meant to do. He acknowledged it by glancing over his shoulder, smiling, and tipping his hat politely in Mary's direction.

  "Oh, for God's sake," Mary said irritably, "I'm not looking for a husband. My mother is."

  Rivers looked confused and turned away, while Rennie laughed out loud. Moira clucked her tongue disapprovingly and cautioned both her daughters to mind their manners.

  With some effort, Rennie managed to become sober. Mary, she noticed, was still looking wonderfully militant. It struck her that perhaps this was just the right mien for an officer's wife. She couldn't resist extolling the lieutenant's virtues. "He's recently received a promotion," she told them. "From second lieutenant to first. That's because of his demonstration of considerable courage during the Colter Canyon incident in September."

  "Is that right, Lieutenant?" Moira asked curiously.

  "Mama," Rennie said flatly, "he's not going to blow his own trumpet."

  That might be true, Mary thought, but she noticed Lieutenant Rivers had slowed his horse so he could listen to Rennie sing his praises. That didn't endear him in any way to Mary. She thought he was handsome enough in a soft, boyish sort of way. He had the kind of features that would dissolve into nondescript puffiness as he grew older, and would only hint at his youthful zeal as a government warrior. It was easy to envision him as a beefy general with slack jowls and a double chin or a high-ranking politician with great side-whiskers and a bald pate.

  Lost in her thoughts, it took Mary a few moments to realize she was smiling vaguely in the lieutenant's direction and he had mistaken her expression for interest. His blue eyes were wandering over her raised face, the tenor of his thoughts quite clear. Mary turned her attention back to Rennie. "I'm sorry," she said politely. "You were saying?"

  Rennie snorted. "I was saying that Lieutenant Rivers managed to hold off the Chiricahua, though he and his men were beaten back into one of the canyon's dead-end passages. While they were corralled, the gold ore they'd had to abandon in the wagons was stolen."

  "And you got a promotion for this?" Mary asked dryly.

  The lieutenant's youthful complexion became ruddy with color, but he did not respond.

  Rennie made a face at Mary. "He got the promotion because he captured the scout who betrayed the entire company and nearly caused their complete annihilation."

  "Well then," Moira said, satisfied
. "That deserves recognition."

  Rennie nodded. "The story's been in all the local papers. I've talked to people who've been to San Francisco and Saint Louis who know about it. The Eastern papers are probably going to carry the story again now that the traitor's due for sentencing today."

  "Today?" Moira asked. "Do you mean it's happening at the fort now?"

  Glancing at the watch pinned to her blouse, Rennie nodded. "It's already happened," she said. "At noon."

  "Oh, dear," Moira said weakly. "I suppose they mean to hang him."

  Rennie nodded.

  "Well, I don't think we want to see that."

  Lieutenant Rivers was solicitous of Moira's feelings. "It's not required, ma'am. You can stay in your quarters."

  Mary's feathered brows rose slightly. "That's a relief," she said caustically. "I suppose you'll be at the forefront of the activity."

  Rivers didn't mince his words. "I'd fasten the rope and pull the lever myself, Miss Dennehy. He deserves exactly what he's going to get."

  Mary was taken aback by the cold virulence in the lieutenant's tone. She reminded herself it was not her place to pass judgment. Had she lived through the same ordeal as Davis Rivers she might be struggling now to find forgiveness for the traitor, or she might be welcoming his death with the same bitter hostility the lieutenant had demonstrated.

  "The sentencing won't be carried out for a few days," Rennie said. "At least that's what I've been given to understand by some of the wives. It seems the entire proceeding has taken a number of unusual twists and turns." She frowned, darting a glance from her mother to her sister. "Are you certain you didn't read about any of this?"

  Moira shook her head. "I'm sure I didn't."

  "Mama and I have been quite content to let world events proceed without us," Mary said. "I don't think I've picked up any paper except the one Michael works for since we left New York."

  "I suppose that explains it," said Rennie. "The story was especially noteworthy because the traitor of Colter Canyon is the nephew of Wilson Stillwell."

  Moira's dark red brows drew together as she tried to place the name. "I know I've heard of him," she said, shaking her head as she struggled for recognition.

  "The senior senator from Ohio," Mary said. "Jay Mac knows him. He's the chairman of one of the prestigious finance committees—or at least he was."

  "He and Jay Mac are cordial at best," Rennie said. "I've had more success in dealing with Senator Stillwell than Jay Mac ever had."

  Jarret twisted around long enough to add his two cents. "That's because the senator appreciates beautiful women," he said.

  "A trait his nephew apparently inherited," Lieutenant Rivers said tersely.

  Rennie shook her head. "I wouldn't know about that, since the senator has always conducted himself honorably."

  Moira's interest was piqued, but Mary felt hers wandering. She didn't care about the senator, his nephew, or their appreciation of women. Taking the cream-colored parasol from her niece's chubby hand, Mary shaded them both in a way that would help to exclude them from the conversation. She bent her head and blew softly in Cait's ear, causing the little girl to giggle with delight.

  Mary pointed out the giant saguaro cactus, rising thirty feet tall, its fluted columns so stately it might have been placed there solely as a desert guardian. She looked at the brown and barren ground around it and wondered if she could live for any length of time in this land. Hot, dry air seared one's lungs and scorched everything that was unprotected. The plants did not appear to bear fruit, and ribbons of radiant heat absorbed even the suggestion of water.

  Yet Mary was intrigued. What kind of people called this place home, and how did the land sustain them? There was a kind of terrible beauty in the harshness that made the terrain difficult to look upon and just as difficult to ignore. The sky was almost cloudless. It stretched out to the mountains and beyond, an infinite ceiling of subtle, shimmering shades of blue. If there were animals, Mary acknowledged that she was not skilled enough to observe them. But then, she considered, perhaps some survival instinct kept them from traveling over the parched mesa at midday.

  There was more vegetation as they climbed into the foothills. Scrub oaks and the occasional juniper tree marked the pale faces of the rocks with splashes of gray and green.

  They stopped once to rest the horses and take a quick lunch. The soldiers ate from their canvas bags of field rations, while Mary and Moira shared the more appetizing meal that Rennie had thought to pack. Mary watched the Army men huddled around an outcropping of rocks. They didn't appear especially vigilant, she thought, as they tucked into their food with relish.

  Jarret interrupted Mary's musings. "You look deep in thought," he said softly. "Care to share it?"

  Mary saw that Cait and Lilly were out of earshot, occupied by their food and Moira's delightful retelling of some incident on the trip West. Rennie, she noticed, was equally enrapt. She shrugged lightly. "I was wondering about the soldiers, why they're not a little more watchful. I mean, if there's so much danger of Indian attacks, then why aren't they more on their guard?"

  "Because we have a scout," he explained.

  Mary's attention was captured now. "A scout?" she asked, pointing to the eating soldiers. "One of them?" She saw that she had amused Jarret, and her response was defensive. "Well? How am I supposed to know? I'm new to this country."

  "And you fit right in," he said. "As prickly as a cactus."

  She eyed him levelly. "I may not be wearing a habit any longer, but God is still on my side." Mary smiled sweetly as Jarret's dark brows rose a fraction. "It's something to think about, isn't it?"

  There was a moment of stunned silence, and then his bark of laughter had everyone looking his direction.

  "Are you flirting with my husband?" Rennie called to her sister.

  Jarret kept Mary from replying. "She's threatening me again."

  "Then I don't know why you're laughing," Rennie said seriously. Unconcerned, she went back to helping her children with their meal and listening to her mother's story.

  Jarret was shaking his head helplessly. "You Marys know how to close ranks on an outsider."

  Mary took pity on him, linking her arm through his and offering the uneaten half of her sandwich. "You're not an outsider, Jarret. I'm mostly polite to them."

  He took the sandwich, recognizing the peace offering for what it was.

  "Tell me about the scout," she said. "Where is he?"

  "Ahead of us, watching for signs."

  "Signs?"

  "Chiricahua signs. They're the ones who have been doing all the raiding." His eyes were grave now. "It's serious, Mary. They're not taking prisoners these days and death is brutal at their hands. A ranching family was slain recently. The five-year-old daughter was left to die, hanging on a meat hook in the smokehouse."

  Mary's complexion paled. Her eyes went immediately to her nieces. "Oh, that can't be true," she whispered.

  "It is," Jarret said flatly. His gaze had gone to his daughters as well. They were both laughing brightly, oblivious to the dangers. Jarret already knew his children would die by his own hand before he'd let them fall victim to Apache torture. He turned to Mary and realized she had divined his thoughts and wasn't horrified by them, only heartsick. "The Army's been going mad looking for Geronimo and his renegade warriors. Now that the Chiricahua have the gold ore from the Colter Canyon raid, it's expected they'll get more guns and ammunition."

  "Surely no one will sell them any."

  "For a hundred thousand in gold?" Jarret scoffed at Mary's naiveté. "The sellers are lining up all the time. A detachment from Fort Union confiscated a wagonload of Henry rifles and ammo just three weeks ago. All of it was headed for Chiricahua country."

  "What kind of men would—" She shook her head, realizing it was beyond her sensibilities. "Never mind. I wouldn't understand."

  "I'm not sure I do," he admitted. And he had seen a lot more of the world than his sister-in-law.

  Mary
's eyes were drawn to the rocky cliffs around them again. "So our scout's out there, watching over us like a guardian angel."

  Jarret smiled at the image that presented. "Something like that," he said.

  "I hope he's a good one," she said. She was unaware of her smile or the fact that it was vaguely secretive. Mary didn't realize her eyes had taken on a faraway look as she thought of a certain Army scout getting lost on his way from Baileyboro to the Granville mansion. There was an edge of laughter in her voice when she added, "Not like Ryder McKay."

  Enjoying the otherworldly expression that had crossed Mary's face, Jarret had felt a momentary lightness in his chest. It passed quickly when she spoke this name. He frowned, confused. "I thought I heard you tell Rennie you didn't know anything about the attack on Colter Canyon."

  "I don't."

  "But you said—"

  Puzzled, Mary tilted her head to one side. "What?" she asked. "What did I say?"

  "Mary, Ryder McKay is the traitor the Army's preparing to hang."

  * * *

  "You're looking very pensive," Rennie said to her sister. "Hmm?"

  Rennie smiled to herself. Mary's thoughts were clearly elsewhere and had been for some time. Rennie had first noticed it not long after they'd resumed their journey to the fort. At first she had considered sheer weariness the cause of Mary's uncharacteristic silence. But there had also been the tiniest indication of a frown between Mary's brows, and she'd worried her lower lip in a way she only did when she was deeply concentrating.

  Rennie hadn't asked any questions then, nor as she helped her mother and Mary settle into their quarters in the officers' building. Now that Moira was napping with her granddaughters and Jarret was engaged in some business with the surveyors, Rennie realized she had waited quite long enough.

  She repeated her comment, more loudly this time. "You're looking very pensive."