The next morning found Bradley rested and excited. They would reach Indian Territory today and finally be in land he knew. He hadn’t expected camels, and he hadn’t expected Miss Herald, but he did know what to expect in the nation, and it was usually danger.
The camels were sound sleepers, although they snored like Private Gundy when he had a cold. Judging from the birds stirring on the branches above him, daybreak was just around the corner. Bradley trailed his hand over the cool grass just beyond his blanket. He didn’t mind sleeping outside. It was cooler than in the hotel, and the ground probably had fewer bumps than the mattress. Fewer critters, too, if he had to guess. He reckoned Ambrosia was comfortable on her mattress, although she and her father had laid their bedrolls farther away from him and the camels.
Bradley had rolled to his back to enjoy the sunrise when he became aware that someone was already up and moving. It was Captain Herald. Not wanting to get caught lying around, Bradley went to meet him.
Bradley saluted casually. “Good morning, sir.”
Captain Herald quickly lowered a flask and screwed on the lid. Bradley scratched at his chest. A stiff drink this early in the morning? He hoped this wasn’t a sign of a serious problem.
“I apologize for not being up earlier and ready to go, but frankly I wouldn’t know what to do with these beasts,” Bradley said.
Captain Herald surveyed the drowsy dromedaries kneeling by the stream. “I’d forgotten how peaceful they are. It’s like they’re telling us not to worry, everything will be just fine.”
Bradley had seen the same expression on a cow’s face, but he didn’t give them any credit for intelligence. He halfway figured the captain was seeing the message he wanted to see. Fine by Bradley. It was nice having a captain who wasn’t worried about running a tight ship for once. No reason to march around all tense if you believed life would go on without you.
Captain Herald motioned Bradley to follow as he made his way to each of the camels, murmuring a greeting and scratching them fondly on the forehead.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how’d you get caught up with camels?” Bradley scrubbed on Melda’s neck and felt like she probably appreciated it.
“Old Omar here was my mount when I was at Camp Verde, north of San Antonio. These were cavalry camels.”
Bradley whistled his surprise. “The US Cavalry rode camels?”
“Only a small number were in the Camel Corps, but we were proud. Ruby and Omar saved our lives back in ’60 when we were sent on a reconnaissance mission to map out the San Antonio–El Paso Road and the Rio Grande. We got caught in a rough canyon in July and couldn’t find water. It was over a hundred degrees in the shade—not that there was any shade available. There we were, wandering around, hoping to stumble onto some water. The mules died and the horses had to be abandoned, but the camels kept carrying us.” His eyes turned misty. “For two more days, we wandered with dry canteens, the camels never complaining. But then they did complain, and boy were we glad.”
He gave Omar a playful slap on his haunch. “This old fellow’s sire started the grumbling. They’d never been rambunctious before, but they started pulling at their reins. We were too tired to fight them, so we gave them their heads, and you know what? These camels marched straight out of that canyon. Two miles off the trail, they found water. They’d been smelling it the whole time. Just had to wait for us to listen to them before they’d take us there.”
The story taught Bradley something about camels, but maybe even more about Captain Herald.
“Everyone survived?” he asked.
“All the troopers and camels, yes. But time hasn’t been so kind to them. From what I hear, I’m the last surviving member of that expedition. Me and the camels.” Captain Herald’s chest seemed to get smaller. His breathing rattled as he absently rubbed Ruby’s forehead.
The last one left? Bradley tried to imagine how he’d feel if he was the lone survivor—if Private Krebs, Morris, and Chandler had all been killed. That was what he’d been trying to avoid, wasn’t it? That was what had gotten him stuck with these crazy animals to begin with. But obviously these animals meant something more to the captain than livestock. More than an investment.
“When I heard that these poor creatures were stuck on a farm in Kansas,” the captain continued, “I decided they wouldn’t winter here again. Got to get them somewhere warm. I owe them that.”
“And your family? What do they think?” Bradley asked.
Captain Herald gazed out at the early-morning horizon. “They don’t understand. I hoped that bringing Ambrosia along might bring her over to my side, but she’s as against it as she ever was.” He slapped his leg. “Well, we have a lot of ground to cover, Private. Time to get moving.”
“Yes, sir.” Bradley hadn’t had a father, but he knew a good man when he saw one. Captain Herald was a fair man, and Ambrosia was a devoted daughter. Why were they working against each other, and what would it take to change Ambrosia’s mind?
The sun was punishing, chasing them down, and there was no place to hide. Ambrosia switched her parasol to her other hand and tried to pull her sleeve down over her arm, but the gathered three-quarter sleeve wasn’t long enough. She’d packed this blouse for its light material, not for coverage, and her tiny parasol wasn’t doing the job.
“If you wanted me to appreciate the camels, then a trip in the blistering heat wasn’t the thing to suggest,” she said to her father.
“In the heat is exactly when you appreciate them the most. We wouldn’t be making this kind of time with horses. Besides, we’d have to bring along a mule team just to carry our supplies and water.”
But his words floated over her head. She was finding it hard to focus. Everywhere she moved, she just encountered more heat. An innocent stretching of her leg brought her in contact with a piece of leather that felt like it was on fire. Changing her grip on the reins would burn through her gloves. Even Ruby’s hairy back seemed to radiate heat up at her. How many more days of this?
She looked up to see Private Willis scanning the horizon. His face and hands were as tanned as any outdoorsman’s, but she’d wager that beneath his collar was skin as fair as hers. She caught herself watching for a glimmer of exposure, then chided herself. What did it matter? Another line of sweat ran down her own collar, reminding her that she was in no condition to draw a man’s interest. While her father generally stayed by her side, the trooper kept his focus far away. After all, he had a job to do.
She moistened her dry lips and reached for her canteen. Even it felt toasty through her gloves. She lifted it to her mouth, but only a trickle leaked out.
“Captain Herald, I think we need to stop for water,” Bradley said.
Had he been watching her, after all? At her questioning look, Bradley rattled his own dented canteen, but she wasn’t fooled. He always had an eye on her.
Her father said the word, and the camels halted their trek. “We still have two barrels of water,” he said as he directed the camels to kneel. “When will we reach the next stream?”
“No streams are guaranteed in August,” Bradley replied. “We’ll make it to the Cimarron River tomorrow or the day after. I presume the camels will be all right?”
“They haven’t slowed down yet.”
“I could certainly use a break from the sun,” Amber said. Once she’d dismounted, she stomped her feet to get the feeling back and looked around her. Finally, they were off the camels and they could . . . they could . . .
There was nothing. No trees, no shade, no diversion of any kind. Only the endless grass, burnt crispy atop the red, baked soil. Two days in the sun, just two days, and Ambrosia felt like she was drained already.
How was her father surviving? At home, it seemed all he could manage was making it from the house to his seat in the garden. Now he had limitless energy.
Bradley had unfastened a water barrel from one of the younger calves. He hoisted it to his shoulder and brought it over to her. Ambrosia tried to wet her lips, but t
hey felt as dry as the leather saddle she’d helped her father make.
“Canteen?” he asked.
She unfastened it from Ruby’s harness. “Poor things. Are you sure they don’t need a drink?” she asked as she held out her canteen for Bradley.
Her father answered. “If they did, we wouldn’t have enough to give them. They’ll make up for it at the river.”
Bradley tipped up the barrel, and water gurgled into her canteen and splashed over her fingers and hands. Amber could have sworn that her skin sighed. She rubbed the coolness into her burning forearms, which stung at first, but as the water evaporated, cooled quickly.
“That feels good, doesn’t it? If we weren’t watching our rations, I’d dump this whole barrel over your head.” His eyes sparkled.
“In any other situation, I’d take offense,” Ambrosia said, “but I think it sounds delightful.”
Bradley laughed, and it was a good, hearty sound. With so much sorrow and worry in her house for the last months, Amber had forgotten the healing a strong laugh carried.
She gulped down her water while Bradley went to offer her father a drink. Approaching the younger camels carefully, Ambrosia set down her canteen and found the sack of green apples she’d brought along. Riding in the heat had drained her of an appetite, but the fresh crispness of an apple sounded perfect.
She removed one, then decided to get her father and even Bradley one, as well. She heard boots on the ground behind her. It was Bradley bringing the barrel of water back.
“Do you want an apple?” It shouldn’t matter if he wanted it or not, but she felt like his accepting would be a gesture of goodwill.
He looked her up and down, his grin growing.
“What?” she said. “What’s so funny?”
“If you’re not the perfect picture of temptation, I don’t know what is.” He stepped forward and took her hand right along with the apple. “Yes, I will take and eat.” His voice had grown frustratingly, teasingly husky. He was so close that the brims of their hats rubbed. Still gazing into her eyes, he dropped her hand, held the apple to his mouth, and broke the skin.
Where had that chill come from? Anxious to break the spell, Amber ripped off a bite of her own apple. She shouldn’t read too much into the attraction that had sprung up between them. He was probably just toying with her. There was nothing else to do, after all.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I can ask, can’t I?”
“You’re eighteen,” he said.
“Eighteen and a half,” she replied. “Did my father tell you? And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m twenty,” he said. “You make me feel older, and I didn’t ask your father. I just know things.” The way he held his mouth, that bottom lip . . .
“A year and a half older than me, but you know things? Like what?”
“Two years older. Things like, if you don’t stay out of the sun, you will get burned crispy.” He took another sharp bite of his apple.
Amber gently laid her palm against her forearm. Just a little tinge. The water had made it better. “I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Do you have anything with longer sleeves?”
“Don’t worry about me. You’re here to take care of my father.”
“Your father looks after himself. I’m watching after you and making sure you have everything you need.”
Like water. She reached down for her canteen and raised it to her lips. Once again, it was empty. Once again, the rim was dirty.
“You thief! I gave you one of my apples!” Incredulous, she chucked her apple at Bradley and hit him square in the chest. When had he had time to empty her canteen? She’d been standing there talking to him all along.
He started laughing, so she threw her canteen, as well. He tossed his arms up and ducked as it sailed over his head.
“I didn’t use your canteen.”
“It’s hot, but it’s not that hot. That water did not evaporate.”
“What’s going on?” her father asked as he walked toward them. He combed his thick mustache while looking at the apple in the dust and the canteen tossed aside.
“Miss Herald is convinced that I’m sneaking drinks from her canteen when she’s not looking. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation.”
“Of course there’s a rational explanation,” she said. “He’s pestering me.”
“Why would I do that?” Bradley asked.
“Stop it, you two,” her father interrupted. He grinned like he was fixing to announce the world’s greatest prank. “Private Willis didn’t drink your water, Ambrosia. It was the calf.”
Amber turned to look at the placid mammal hunched down on the ground. “That’s impossible. It doesn’t have hands.”
“It doesn’t need hands. Its lips are very pliable. Camels can untie knots, pick a pocket, down a whole bottle, and then set it back on the shelf as if nothing happened.”
“The only evidence left behind is a slobbery canteen, right, Ambrosia?”
She glowered at Bradley, and to her surprise, her father didn’t seem to notice the trooper had called her by her given name.
“Refill the canteen, and let’s get going,” he said instead. “No sense in sitting still and baking in this heat.”
Refill her canteen? This time they couldn’t spare any water to rinse it.
Bradley seemed to notice her hesitation. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “You can share mine.”
“I’d rather share with the camels,” she said, but her smile softened the words.
“Have it your way.” He lifted the barrel to refill the canteen one last time. “If only my lips were as skilled as hers.”
The chill was back. Even in the heat.
C
hapter
6
Look at him—the sultan of Indian Territory. Bradley wished his buddies back at Fort Reno could see him gliding over the grasslands on the back of a swaying camel. If they thought his antics on horseback were impressive, they’d shoot themselves in the foot to watch him now. Just how fast could these beasts go? And how hard would it be to aim while galloping on them? Too bad he hadn’t had some time alone with Melda to test her abilities.
Too bad he also hadn’t had more time alone with Miss Herald. She was a feisty gal. Extending a peace offering to him one minute, throwing it at him the next. And it had been the camels stealing drinks all along. Didn’t that beat all?
He’d spotted some trees along a shallow gorge ahead. It looked as good a place to eat as any. Chances were the water was gone, but they had to have firewood to cook dinner.
They reached the grove and unburdened the beasts while Ambrosia rummaged through the pile of goods, looking for the cooking gear. She found a pot but needed help reaching the water barrel still tied onto the calf’s brace. Bradley was only too happy to help, although when the captain wandered off, he had to wonder if that metal flask was coming out again when no one was looking.
Bradley tilted the water barrel for her. “Not too long ago I was fighting for my life against a ruthless gang of outlaws, and now I’m riding a camel. Who would’ve thought?” He smiled his most charming smile, but she seemed intent on the water gurgling into the pot. What was wrong with her? How could she not be impressed with the outlaw story? Bradley was impressed, even if it was the reason he was in so much trouble.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just thinking how disappointed my mother is going to be. I’ve let her down.”
“You know, I don’t think the camels are an investment.” Bradley spoke quietly so the captain wouldn’t overhear him. He didn’t mean to tell her how to get along with her own kin, but maybe he could help. “They mean something more to him. Nostalgic.”
“I wish he’d just keep a lock of their hair or something, because camels don’t fit into a memory book very well,” she said.
“The best memories can’t always be kept in a book.”
Amb
rosia’s dark hair contrasted with her flushed cheeks. Her thick lashes framed striking blue eyes. “Does he miss his job so much?”
“I think it’s more than that. But I can sympathize. He’s a strong man. Being put out to pasture and sitting by while your daughter and wife build you a house? That doesn’t sound like any kind of life to me.”
“This is our fault?” The water sloshed in the pot. She was going to lose it if she wasn’t careful. “We’re taking care of him.”
“A man has to have some challenges. If he feels like the best days of his life are behind him, then it’s no wonder he’s been down. Besides, any fella worth his salt doesn’t want to be a burden. He wants to have someone who needs him—someone to take care of.”
The sentiment surprised Bradley. He’d never spent much time worrying about himself, much less anyone else, but here he found himself trying to think ahead for Ambrosia’s safety and slowing down for her comfort. This trip was changing him, and he didn’t credit it to the camels.
Speaking of the strange creatures, their ears twitched. Something wasn’t right.
Holding a hand out toward Ambrosia, Bradley said, “Don’t move a hair.”
Captain Herald had noticed something, too. He motioned to Ambrosia to take cover. There were horsemen, three of them, and they were armed. So was Bradley, but then he saw their uniforms and decided he didn’t need his rifle, after all.
“They’re friendly,” he said. “Cherokees, I reckon.” He took stock of their horses, as all troopers did. Two mustangs and a Morgan. But then the horses started acting funny. They slowed. The lead horse reared back, catching the rider off guard and nearly causing him to crash into the rider on the left. The other mustang slowed. Even from here, Bradley could see its flaring nostrils and the whites of its eyes.
“It’s the camels,” Ambrosia said. “They’re afraid.”
“These animals make nice guards, I’ll give them that.” Holding up a hand, Bradley stepped out from around the camels. “Let’s see what they want.”
Ambrosia crept closer to Ruby, where she could watch from a distance, not sure what to think about the strangers. One of them was a full-blooded Indian, his braids disappearing against his dark coat. The other two were white men, and all had badges. After they’d had a look at the camels, they shook hands with Bradley and her father and walked back to where their nervous horses were waiting.
Hearts Entwined Page 20
