Since Texas had joined the Union, the Army had set up a line of forts from the Trinity River in the north to the Rio Grande in the south. Statehood had been one of the topics her father and his associates had debated, but surely the arrival of men like Lieutenant Anderson had been a fortuitous development.
“Your family must be very proud.”
The lieutenant turned and slid one arm along the back of the settee. “That’s a very kind thing for you to say, Miss Sullivan.” He leaned toward her and dropped his voice. “Would it be too forward if I called you Naomi?”
Only family members and the most intimate of friends used Christian names. He must have been anxious to move their friendship to a deeper level. Should she consent to such a bold request? If she refused, he might be discouraged to the point of curtailing his attention. “No, of course not, but...”
His lovely blond eyebrows rose. “But?”
“When my grandmother is present, she might consider the use of my first name to be too familiar.”
A sly grin quirked the ends of his moustache. “I see. It’s exciting to know you’re amenable to breaking the rules. I hope you will call me Bret.”
Naomi’s pulse throbbed against her collar and her cheeks burned. “All right, if you’d like.”
Lieutenant Anderson used one finger to trace the veins on Naomi’s hand, sending tingles from that small patch of skin to other parts of her body. Her abdomen burned with a wanting she’d never felt before. “I would like that very much,” he said in a near-whisper.
Naomi wanted him to touch her throat, her cheek, her lips. She closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the settee, exposing her neck, and felt him move closer. Would he touch her? Kiss her?
Her grandmother’s voice hit her like cold water. “Dinner’s ready.”
Naomi jumped up, smoothed her skirt, and faced her grandmother. What in the world had come over her? She’d never acted the wanton before.
Lieutenant Anderson stepped past Naomi and offered his arm to her grandmother. “May I?” he asked.
“Oh, my,” her grandmother said with a smile of surprise. “It’s been a long time since a gentleman escorted me to the table.”
Naomi trailed the pair into the kitchen. In her father’s house, only servants and children ate in the kitchen, but her grandmother’s small house had no dining room. What would the lieutenant think of such modest accommodations?
Bret moved to the head of the rectangular table and placed his hands on the back of the chair. “Allow me, Mrs. Fairchild.”
Was Naomi imagining things or was her grandmother blushing? “Why, thank you, sir.” Ruth lowered herself slowly into the chair and smiled at Bret over her shoulder.
He then moved to where Naomi stood and repeated the action. Finally, he took a seat across the table from Naomi. “It’s so kind of you to invite me for a meal. Home cooking is a rare treat indeed.”
“I hope you’ll come whenever you can, Lieutenant.” Ruth folded her hands on the table and bowed her head. “We thank Thee, Lord, for Thy bounty and for keeping us under Thy protective wing. Amen.”
“Amen,” Naomi whispered.
“Now, Lieutenant Anderson,” her grandmother said, “pass me your plate and I’ll serve you some ham.”
* * *
Ethan let the buckskin set its own pace. The load of firewood wasn’t too much for the mare, but he was in no hurry. The cloudless Texas sky stretched above him like a benevolent canopy and the warm temperature felt more like spring than autumn. He tried to remember the Psalm Reverend Lewis had read that morning during the service. The Earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord.
That was it. The preacher had been quoting scripture from one end of the church to the other. Ethan chuckled to himself. Sometimes the good reverend became so full of the Spirit, it seemed as though he was about to fly.
Ethan’s mother would have liked Reverend Lewis. She’d often complained about the previous minister, a dour man who’d acted as though he began each morning with a dose of vinegar.
Whether the preaching was on the wages of sin or the grace of God, his mother had always attended services. Ethan had begged to stay home with his father, but his parents denied his requests. He’d trudged along, wondering why his father was allowed such liberty, and secretly vowed he’d skip Sunday services once he was an adult.
After his parents’ death, he’d exercised his newfound freedom and played the backslider. But the habit had been plowed too deeply within him, and his conscience nagged him. Not to mention the loneliness. Unbeknownst to him, his mother had entwined their lives with the life of the church. Without fellowship, his soul had been as hollow as a card sharp’s heart.
Despite being an adult of twenty-five years, he put on his only suit, shined his good boots, and rode to church every Sunday. There, he caught up with his neighbors, talked to the other ranchers about market prices or rumored sicknesses passing through herds, and visited schoolmates who were now married and raising children of their own.
The biggest news of today had been the arrival of Miss Ruth’s granddaughter. Naomi Sullivan had garnered everyone’s attention and not just because she was new in town. Naomi was a beautiful young woman with reddish-brown hair and eyes the color of spring bluebells. She walked and spoke with the refinement of a lady, and her dress was several degrees finer than what the ranch women wore. No doubt Miss Ruth would like her granddaughter to stay in Loma Verde, but what would entice an educated, cultured woman like Naomi to leave her family in San Antonio?
Marriage might do it. There were more men than women in the county, and a pretty girl had her choice of suitors. He wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life looking into Naomi’s beautiful eyes, but it took more than eyes to make a good wife.
He’d bought a mare once because of its fine appearance. Its chestnut coat shone and its conformation was perfect, but two days after he got it home, the horse’s true nature had appeared. He defied anyone to find a more stubborn, headstrong horse in the state of Texas. Another troublesome female was the last thing he needed.
If Naomi proved to be as sweet as she was pretty, he might be persuaded to court her. He wanted a family, and the only way to get one started with a wife. Perhaps he should speak to Miss Ruth about it. She’d always been a straight shooter. No doubt she’d share her thoughts on the potential match.
But as Ethan made the last turn toward his neighbor’s house, his heart fell into his stomach. Lieutenant Bret Anderson’s horse stood at the porch rail, its tail lazily swatting the occasional fly. Ethan wasn’t the only man in the area who had noticed Naomi’s beauty.
Anderson’s presence at Ruth’s house was like storm clouds building on the horizon. The lieutenant could bring trouble or he could pass without causing a problem. But from what Vicente Garcia had told him, Ethan doubted the lieutenant’s intentions were completely innocent.
Ethan drove the wagon to the back of Ruth’s small ranch house and set the brake. He’d unload the firewood, say his hellos and goodbyes, and be on his way. The last thing he wanted was to force himself where he was neither expected nor wanted.
As he climbed into the bed of the wagon to throw down the split wood, Ruth stepped out of the back door. “Hello, there. If I’d known you were coming today, I would’ve waited to serve dinner.”
“That’s all right. I wanted to replenish your wood supply before Jack Frost pays a visit.”
Ruth shielded her eyes with her hand and looked up at him. “You know I appreciate it. Come on in. We’ve just started eating.”
Ethan paused, a piece of wood in his hand. “Not today, Miss Ruth.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you not like my cooking?”
Ethan shook his head. “You know I’ve appreciated your fine cooking for many years. But you’ve already got company.”
Ruth looked toward the kitchen and then back at Ethan. “Lieutenant Anderson from Fort Croghan is here, but there’s plenty of food.”
&
nbsp; Ethan threw the wood onto the pile and tried to make his voice sound nonchalant. “What brings Anderson to your house?”
Ruth walked to the wagon, looked up at Ethan, and lowered her voice. “I believe it’s my granddaughter.”
Of course it was Naomi. The officer had never bothered to call on Ruth before. “I don’t imagine the lieutenant would appreciate having another buck at the dinner table.”
Ruth cocked her head to one side. “What are you saying? Do you have a mind to court Naomi?”
Ethan had always appreciated the no-nonsense way Ruth took on the world, but he wasn’t ready to share his thoughts about her granddaughter. “You know, Miss Ruth, my mama taught me to read the Bible every night before bed.”
“That’s a good habit.”
“And almost every night, there are verses advising me to be wise.”
“Wisdom is another good trait to have.”
“So choosing a girl to court requires all the wisdom I can muster.”
“I’m sure you’re going to get to your point sooner or later.”
Ethan chuckled. “My point is…I’d like to get to know Naomi a lot better before I decide on any courting to be done.”
Ruth set her hands on her hips. “I understand what you’re saying, Ethan, but if you put it off too long, someone may steal the prize right out from under your contemplative nose.”
Ethan jumped down from the wagon and looked through the open doorway. Naomi sat at the table next to the lieutenant, her attention riveted on the man. “You may be right. Want me to stack this wood for you?”
“No, no. Leave it where it is and Naomi and I will stack it later. If you don’t want to sit at the table with us, at least come into the kitchen while I fix a basket of food to take with you.”
He could do that much. He brushed off his hands, placed his hat on the wagon seat, and followed Ruth into the kitchen.
Anderson stood and offered his hand. “Good afternoon. Lieutenant Bret Anderson of the Second Dragoons.”
Ethan shook his hand. “Ethan Garrett. Sorry to interrupt your meal.”
“Not at all. Have you had the pleasure of meeting Miss Sullivan?”
Ethan shifted his gaze to Naomi. “Yes. How are you, Naomi?”
Naomi’s gaze shifted between him and the officer, no doubt comparing him with the other man. “Very well, thank you.”
Anderson gestured toward the table. “Will you be joining us?”
Naomi’s cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled like a child with a dime to spend on penny candy. “Lieutenant Anderson was just telling the most harrowing tale. He fought in the Mexican War and, although he won’t admit it, he was quite the hero.”
For a moment, Ethan regretted his earlier decision. If he stayed, perhaps he could interfere with Naomi’s growing attraction to the officer.
Ruth stepped beside him. “Your basket is ready, Ethan. I put in an apple pie too.”
He could hardly change his mind now. His plans to obstruct Lieutenant Anderson’s attentions would be obvious if he removed the food from the basket and set it on the table. “Thank you, Miss Ruth.” He looked back to the couple at the table. “I’ll be heading back to my place now.”
Anderson stood and extended his hand again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Garrett.”
Ethan shook his hand but looked at Naomi. Her gaze was transfixed on the officer. “How long will you be staying with your grandmother, Naomi?”
Naomi blinked and looked from one man to the other. “What? Oh…I…several weeks, I think. Possibly longer.”
Her infatuation with Anderson couldn’t have been more conspicuous. Ethan nodded curtly and followed Ruth through the back door. He set the basket of food in the wagon and then turned to his friend. “You comfortable with what’s going on in there?”
Ruth looked toward the ranch house and then back at him. “I don’t have much say in the matter. Naomi will make up her own mind.”
“You might want to have a word with Vicente Garcia about Lieutenant Anderson. He has a story about Anderson and Marta’s sister that will make you think twice.”
Ruth crossed her arms in front of her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Sounds like gossip to me. You know as well as I what the Good Book says about gossip.”
“Have it your way, Miss Ruth. But it’s not gossip if it’s meant to protect the innocent.” Ethan climbed into the wagon and took the reins. “Thanks again for the food.”
He drove toward home, wishing he could have spent more time with his neighbors. But staying at Miss Ruth’s house was out of the question. He’d be about as welcome as a fox in the henhouse.
* * *
“Thank you again for such a lovely afternoon.” Lieutenant Anderson’s perfect white teeth gleamed beneath his mustache.
Naomi reluctantly withdrew her hand from his. “It was our pleasure.”
He pulled on his leather gloves. “May I be so bold as to call on you again?”
Naomi’s heart quickened its pace. “Of course, Lieutenant.”
A look of censure crossed his handsome face. “Now, now. I thought we’d agreed you would call me Bret.”
Most gentlemen would bide their time, becoming well-acquainted with the girl’s family before making such a forward gesture, but the lieutenant’s insistence must have meant he was anxious to ply his suit. She smiled the most encouraging smile she could muster. “Of course. Bret.”
“Will you be in town this week? Perhaps I will see you.”
Naomi’s hopes doubled. No man had ever paid so much attention to her before. Even Lucas Simpson, her almost-beau in San Antonio, had only called on Sunday afternoons. “Grandmother and I will be attending the Ladies’ Circle on Wednesday morning. I’m not sure what other errands may bring us to town.”
He donned his cap and smiled. “I’ll do whatever I can to see you on Wednesday. My duties, however…”
“I understand, Bret. Duty first.”
“Exactly.” He untied his horse and mounted, then smiled down at her. “Until next time.”
Naomi lifted her hand in farewell and watched him ride away. An officer and a gentleman. She’d met few men with such etiquette and decorum. Most were like Ethan Garrett—cowboys who knew more about cattle than they did good manners.
CHAPTER THREE
Ethan tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the storehouse. He didn’t come to Fort Croghan often, but the quartermaster had promised payment, and Ethan had come to collect. The door was open to take advantage of the crisp November air, and Ethan removed his hat as he entered.
A soldier stood. “Good afternoon, sir.”
Ethan took a moment to examine the boy. Army life had never appealed to him, but there were many orphaned boys who joined rather than starve on the streets. The soldier in front of him must have lied about his age because he couldn’t have been much older than sixteen.
“My name’s Ethan Garrett. I’m here to see Sergeant Howell.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “One moment, sir.”
Ethan half expected the boy to salute, but he simply stepped into an adjoining room.
Sergeant Howell emerged from the room with an outstretched hand and a big smile. “What does a scoundrel like Ethan Garrett want with the U.S. Army? Have you finally decided to join up? Not that we’d take you, of course.”
Ethan smiled at the gentle ribbing. Howell was a salt-of-the-earth kind of man, hard-working, no-nonsense, and always ready for a good joke. “Unlike your other volunteers, I wasn’t kicked in the head by a mule.”
Sergeant Howell threw back his head and laughed. “I know why you’ve come, but before we take care of business, come over to the commissary. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Ethan followed the sergeant to a nearby building. Fort Croghan wasn’t much more than a group of log buildings and a parade ground. Uniformed men stood at attention nearby with an officer on horseback watching over them.
“Isn’t that Lieutenant Anderson?” Etha
n asked.
Sergeant Howell held open a door for Ethan to pass through. “Do you know the lieutenant?”
“I’m acquainted with him. What kind of drill is that?”
“No drill,” the sergeant answered. “Lieutenant Anderson’s administering disciplinary action.” He reached for a large tin coffee pot and filled two tin cups. “No telling what those poor men are guilty of. Probably everything from sleeping on guard duty to insubordination. Anderson there,” he gestured with his cup, “likes to dole out punishment to everyone at the same time.”
“How long do those men have to stand at attention?”
“Depends. Sometimes an hour, sometimes longer. Those soldiers are lucky, in a way. Some poor devils have to stand in the freezing cold or the boiling summer heat.”
How the Army disciplined its men was none of Ethan’s business, but something about the scene made him uneasy. “I take it that kind of punishment is allowed?”
“There’s a book that suggests penalties for each infraction, but officers can pretty well choose whatever they like. Between you and me, Lieutenant Anderson there is one of the worst.”
Ethan eyed the sergeant. The two had become friends during the past year. Howell’s statement wasn’t an indiscretion as much as a sign of the level of trust the two men shared. “How’s that?”
“Some men should never have power over other men. They use it to belittle and abuse those who have sworn to follow orders.”
Although he’d been expecting a bad report, Howell’s words transformed Ethan’s earlier unease into tense ropes of concern. “What about the other officers? Can’t they do something to stop Anderson?”
Sergeant Howell shook his head. “Spoken like a true civilian. The truth is one officer would never contradict another.”
Life in the military took away a man’s ability to direct his own life. Perhaps that was why it had never appealed to Ethan. “Have you ever seen Anderson in action?”
Sergeant Howell refilled his cup and leaned against the wall. “During the fighting with Mexico a few years back, our company was involved in some skirmishes along the Rio Grande. Anderson was supposed to lead a platoon north to scout the Mexican artillery location. His platoon straggled back in twos and threes a few days later.”
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