And how could she ever repair the sense of trust once it had been uprooted with equal savagery?
Sitting back on her heels, she let the silent sobs shake through her shoulders, fueled by unwarranted blame and disappointment. All the years upon years she’d given to her father and his career. All the unflagging support and unbowed approval of his choices. How could he doubt her? How could he ask the state of her heart when it had always, always belonged to him?
Then her broken heart faltered, tripping on one wretched barrier that should have been easily cleared but somehow proved impossible to get over.
What if he was right to question her, to doubt her?
If her father had told her the truth in confidence, would she have taken that knowledge straight to Noble Banning?
She waited, expecting her mind to provide a quick denial, but it snagged on emotions too tangled up in Noble to lend a reliable answer.
“The poor wee things. ‘Tis far too hot for anything to prosper.”
Juliet rubbed at her watering eyes before smiling weakly up at Colleen. “I keep trying. I guess I don’t know when I’m licked.”
“Many a thing would never get accomplished if not for a bit of stubbornness.”
Juliet had to nod, eager to distract herself from the disturbing turn of her thoughts. “Did Mrs. Stacy get settled in with you all right? It’s not too crowded, is it?”
“Crowded is eleven brothers and sisters under one roof. Cozy is what me and Mrs. Stacy are. She’s a fine woman, and I like her just fine. Much better than the other one.”
“Has Maisy bothered you, Colleen?”
“No. I’ve not seen her at all. She doesn’t like the way the heat frizzes her hair.”
Juliet smiled at the other’s impersonation of the vain Maisy. Then she took a chance and asked, “And how is Captain Allen?”
The Irish girl’s blush answered all her questions to that end. “Oh, he be a wonderful gentleman, so kind and considerate of others. He worries so over his friends’ problems, taking them too much to heart.”
“Which friends?”
“Major Banning mostly.” Colleen put a hand to her mouth, fearing she’d spoken too freely. Nervously, she concluded, “I do go on.
“If you’re to be a pastor’s wife, you’ll have to work on that,” Juliet said with a warm smile.”
Colleen’s jaw dropped, her bright eyes going button-round. “Has he said something to you?”
Juliet stood up, brushing the dirt from her hands. “Sometimes words aren’t necessary. I take it you’re interested in the position.”
Her features lit up like a Roman candle. “Oh, yes. Indeed I am. Now if there was just some way to get the gentleman to ask.”
“Could be that’s something we might work on together.”
Juliet was surprised by the girl’s sudden heart-felt hug. After all, why shouldn’t she and the sweet-tempered George Allen enjoy romance? They deserved it. Love was something everyone deserved.
She stepped back, all at once overcome by the want to cry again. Gruffly, she promised to do what she could to help the meek lovebirds find happiness, all the while doubting she’d ever have any of her own.
She invited both Colleen and Anne Stacy to dine with them that night, partly because she enjoyed their company but mostly to provide a conversation buffer between her and her father. She wouldn’t have survived the meal without them. As soon as possible, she escaped the house and walked Colleen home, leaving Anne with her father, hopefully to begin forging bonds like those that had been broken between them.
There wasn’t much to do on an army post. After saying good night to Colleen, she stopped in to see if Dr. Penny needed her help, but Pauline had volunteered to take her mind off her own loss. The children were busy tearing bandage strips and dipping out water. She spent a few minutes visiting with Jane, but Albert had just returned to recover in his own bed. Jane was hovering over him anxiously, much to his delight.
It seemed everyone else had someone or some purpose until in her aimless wandering, she came across another lost soul.
“Good evening, George. If you could stand some company, I’d like to join you.”
He waved her onto the empty porch planks beside him, his smile as melancholy as her spirit. “I was just contemplating how life gets more complex as we go along. I’d always thought it would be just the opposite, that the more we experience and learn, the more we are prepared to meet what befalls us.” He laughed softly. “Funny. Things were so clear to me before the war. I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be a vessel through which God could work to reach the lost. Now I am so lost myself, I don’t know how much good I’ll be.”
She put her hand over his for a consoling squeeze. “I think it’s through those trials and doubts that He shapes you to be a vessel He can use.”
“You mean He’s trying to break me in, like a saddle. If He’s not careful, I’ll be all worn out before I ever get the chance to do good.”
“You’ve already done good, George, with Colleen, with Noble, with me. I’ve enjoyed our talks and I can’t imagine anyone I would feel more comfortable confiding in.”
He turned away, eyes downcast, as if he felt unworthy. “I thought my religious background would prepare me to help others make the right moral decisions and to advise them on the right paths to take. I didn’t realize how confusing those paths could be, how unclear the choices. How can I advise when I’m not sure of my own answers?”
“That’s where faith comes in, George, faith in your beliefs, faith in yourself.”
“Oh, if it were only that simple.”
“And in allowing others to have faith in you. Sometimes that’s where the greatest strength comes from—from knowing others believe in you.”
He glanced at her, his smile somewhat mystified. “You’re a wise woman, Juliet.”
“I’ve had a lot of experience with those dilemmas lately.”
“And?”
“And I have no answers, either. Perhaps there aren’t any answers, only choices. Choices that we have to decide how we’re going to live with once we make them.”
He sighed as if the weight of the moral universe rested upon his slumped shoulders.
“I know of one choice that you’d never regret making,” Juliet said.
Curiously, he looked up at her. “What’s that?”
“I’m not the one you need to be talking to.” She nodded toward Colleen McDonnal’s tiny home. “I think you may find some answers eager to be given.”
With that advice, Juliet stood, smiling as she saw a certain speculative gleam in the cleric’s eyes. If only her own decisions were so clear-cut and sure to have a happy ending. As she continued her walk Noble fell in beside her.
“I saw you talking to George. Any particular topic of conversation?”
“Moral dilemmas.”
“Ahhh,” was all he said.
As they grew closer to her quarters, they could see the colonel’s shadow as he smoked his cigar upon the porch. Juliet subconsciously widened the distance between them as they walked to make it more impersonal.
“Good evening, Colonel.”
“Major Banning. Out for a stroll?”
“Just delivering your daughter safely into your care.”
“She would be the first to say that was hardly necessary.”
“But a pleasure, nonetheless.” He gave Juliet a small smile.
“Join me for a cigar, Major?”
“Another time.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Good night.”
“Good night, sir. Juliet.” He nodded to his superior, but the look he gave Juliet was intensely personal. She glanced aside before her father could notice.
“You were gone a long time,” came the colonel’s tentative comment.
“And I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Her crisp claim left no opening for further discussion. But Crowley wasn’t about to be ignored.
“Daughter, don’t walk away from me.”<
br />
His command brought her up short, her shoulders squaring before she spun to face him with an icy glare. “Excuse me. Am I to wait to be dismissed?”
Crowley flushed in irritation. “No, of course not.”
“Then good night.”
“Juliet, please. We need to talk.”
“About what? I can’t think of a single thing that needs to be said.”
His voice softened with regret. “I can think of many things. I was unfair in my treatment of you earlier. I know you were only concerned for me and you know how I hate for you to worry.”
“So you thought accusing me of disloyalty would be a good way to take my mind off it.”
“Not a good way, obviously.”
She scowled. “This is not a very good apology.”
“I will gladly apologize if you will answer me one small thing.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s that?”
“Are you in love with Banning?”
That was no small thing. Needing time to recover from the savage surprise, she demanded, “What does that have to do with anything?”
Gently, he explained, “It has everything to do with everything.”
Still not ready to own up to those emotions, she countered with a fierce, “If I am, that would excuse me from being reliable? I wasn’t aware that love was the opposite of truth and trust.”
“It isn’t. If you’re in love with him, I wouldn’t want the knowledge I hold to come between you.”
“But it does,” she cried out in dismay, her behavior as good as a confession. “Don’t you see? As long as you hold him here, I’ll never know if what he feels for me plays any part in it at all. How can I ever trust him if you don’t give him the chance to be trusted? How will I ever know if he cares for me unless he has the opportunity to show it?”
“And does he care for you?”
She turned away in anguish. “I don’t know. I don’t know what he feels. I don’t know what I feel. Yes, I do. I feel trapped. I feel trapped between the two of you, and only the truth can free me.”
Crowley gripped her by the shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. “But Jules, truth also has the power to imprison those who don’t truly deserve the punishment. You don’t know the full story or you would understand my silence.”
Not understanding, she said, “Papa, please, give him the chance to show his loyalty. It’s easy to call a dog your best friend when you keep it on a chain. Only when it’s let loose can you know for certain. I want to know for certain. I need to know. Papa, I love him. How am I ever going to know if I can trust him or myself with him unless that trust is tested?”
Crowley hesitated for a long moment, indecision warring in his expression. “You love him?”
“Yes.”
“Enough to risk losing him?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps I should tell you—”
“Bastard!”
The wild cry interrupted their conversation. Both turned to see an unsteady Maisy Bartholomew weaving her way across the parade ground. Her hair was in disarray, her gown mussed, her eyes crazed and red from weeping. She was heading straight for them, her attention fixed upon the colonel.
“You’re to blame. You brought us out here. You tore me from my home and friends when you forced my husband to betray his cause to fight for yours. Everything would have been fine if not for your interference.”
“Good God, has the woman been drinking?”
Juliet shook her head. She didn’t think so. She’d never seen Maisy touch a drop of alcohol. It wasn’t strong spirits loosening her tongue. It was a weak and fracturing soul.
“I could have sat out the rest of the war and waited for Donald’s release. But no. You come in and take ’em from where they were safe and you drag ’em out here to battle those red devils.” She took a quick hitching breath, growing more agitated with each word. “You risk our lives for something we don’t care anything about. Well, I’m not risking mine or my husband’s anymore, you hear? No more warnings.”
A terrible insight came to Juliet just then. “It was you, not your husband.”
“Donald?” She spat his name as if it left a bad taste. “Donald would never do something so—heroic. He’s too afraid of Major Banning.” She glared at Noble, who was approaching her cautiously from one side. “Stay back. This is your fault, too. You and your holy causes.”
“But why?” Juliet asked for them all. “Why attack my father? What good did you think that would do you?”
Maisy’s smile held a crazy cleverness. “At first, to cast suspicion on our men. I hoped the colonel would be wary enough of them to send us all back. But when a warning wouldn’t alert him, I had to take more drastic measures.” Her gaze cut back to Noble. “I said get back.”
“Now, Miz Bartholomew, you don’t want to hurt anyone. I’ll see you get safely back home.”
“More of your silky lies, Major. Donald might believe them, but I don’t. I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
“Don’t do that, ma’am.” He was almost within reach of her. Juliet held her breath.
“We’re going home. We’re going home now!”
From out of the folds of her skirt she drew a heavy pistol, and before Juliet could cry out in warning, Maisy aimed it at John Crowley and fired.
Chapter 22
Noble lunged just an instant too late. Even as he caught the frenzied woman by the forearm and wrested the smoking pistol from her hand, Crowley staggered into his daughter’s arms before crumpling to the porch boards. He heard Juliet’s screams, the terrible, anguished sounds of someone losing the only person left that they loved.
“My God! Maisy, what have you done?” Bartholomew cried as he raced upon the scene.
“I took care of things, Donald. No more waiting. No more promises.” Her features were now serenely composed, her task completed.
Noble handed her over into her husband’s care so that he could check on the severity of Crowley’s injury. When he knelt down beside Juliet, he could see it was bad: a nasty head wound. Its fierce bleeding discolored his daughter’s gown and hands as she tried to stop the vital flow. She looked up at Noble, her gaze wild with panic.
“Help me! Help me!”
Between them, they maneuvered the insensible man to the infirmary, where Penny quickly made room and just as quickly shooed them away.
“But I can’t leave! Not until I know he’s going to be all right!”
“Major, please take her outside. I’ll let you know his condition as soon as there’s something to tell.”
Noble took Juliet’s elbow, but she continued to resist, her wide eyes fixed upon her father’s still features, clinging to the sight as if it might be her last. Finally, with his arm firmly about her shoulders, Noble steered her away, out into the steamy night.
There she collapsed against him, reserve of strength crumbling into soft sobs of shock. He held her close, speaking into the tangle of her pale hair in a tender whisper.
“He’ll be all right, darlin’. You just wait and see. He’ll pull through just fine, just fine.”
As he absorbed the reverberations of her weeping, he looked off into the darkness, praying, Let him be all right, Lord. Don’t do this to her now. He’d seen loss and suffering in too many of its devastating forms to wish it upon this brave woman that he loved. If there’d been a way to take away her fright, to give assurances that she would never want for anything, that she wouldn’t be cast away by the army that had commanded her life for so long, he would have given them. But there was nothing he could do or say … except ask her again to marry him.
If the burden of her future was settled, perhaps then she could concentrate on willing her father well without worrying about what would become of her should he not recover. He held her tight, wondering if this was the right time, if he would be asking for the right reasons.
“He can’t die,” came her weak protest against the cruel inevitability of fate.
“Juliet, don’t you go worrying now. I’ll see you’re taken care of. I’ll see to it myself.”
She shook her head in rapid denial, pushing her palms against his chest to emphasize it. “I don’t want you to take care of me. I want him to be all right.”
“He will be, darlin’. No one’s going to take his place.”
She ceased her struggles and once again accepted his embrace. And Noble said nothing more on the subject. He continued to hold her, closing his heart around a pain too mighty to explore while dealing with the priority of another’s.
She didn’t want him.
Eventually, her tears ran out and she calmed enough for him to coax her down onto the steps beside him. He kept his arm about her shoulder, a strong bolster of support.
“Why didn’t I see it sooner?” she said to herself in an anguish of blame. “I should have seen how dangerous and determined she was. All the signs were there. I just wasn’t seeing them.”
“Nonsense,” Noble growled, trying to shake her from her self-flagellation. “None of us guessed. Not even her husband had a clue as to how far gone she was. It’s not your fault, Juliet. You couldn’t have known.”
“But I knew he was in danger. I was so sure it was the same man who’d betrayed you. I’d finally persuaded Papa to tell me the man’s name—”
“Did he?”
The sudden demand jolted through Juliet’s misery. She looked up at his taut face, her stare accusing, agonizing.
“No. He didn’t have time. But I should have known that’s what you’d see as the important thing.”
“No, Juliet, that’s not—”
But she wouldn’t listen. She shoved herself out of his embrace and stumbled to her feet. He watched as her inner courage strengthened her stance and put fire back in her tear-drenched eyes.
“Get away from here, away from us.”
“Juliet—”
“Go! You’re not going to hover over his bed like some vulture hoping to feed off his last words. You and your code of honor disgust me, Major Banning. How dare you try to take advantage of my pain! Get out of my sight and stay out of my life!”
The Men of Pride County: The Rebel Page 23
