Summer of Promise

by Amanda Cabot

  “Won’t Mrs. Channing be surprised when she sees him?” Charlotte asked from her perch on the bench, safely out of range of the now sodden puppy who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to shake every last drop from his coat. “Of course, she won’t want him here in the kitchen. She’ll probably threaten to quit, and then I’ll be in trouble.” Charlotte sighed. “Servants are almost impossible to find. No sooner does a woman get settled here than she’s courted by every single man at the fort. This is definitely the place to be if you’re looking for a husband.”

  “But I’m not.” Abigail kept one hand firmly on Puddles’s back as she started to soap his belly. Though he was a small animal, he wiggled so vigorously that she wished she could ask Charlotte for assistance, but she wouldn’t risk ruining her sister’s gown.

  “Of course you’re not looking for a husband.” Charlotte nodded briskly. “Woodrow is a fine man, very sensible and down-to-earth. He’ll make a good husband.”

  And he’d give Abigail what she’d longed for all her life, a permanent home. Woodrow shared not just Abigail’s love of teaching but also her belief that the perfect life, the one God intended for them both, was to settle in one of the charming cottages within easy walking distance of the academy and raise their children there. But Woodrow was thousands of miles away. What was important now was getting Puddles clean.

  Abigail pulled the puppy out of the water, holding him suspended over the tub while she rinsed him with water from a pitcher. “He’ll have to be trained if you plan to keep him indoors.” She wrapped Puddles in an old towel before handing him to Charlotte.

  “I don’t know anything about training dogs.”

  Abigail tried not to frown at the evidence that once again she’d been impulsive. She should have considered everything a dog needed before she rescued one. “I don’t know much, either, so I guess we’ll have to learn together.”

  “It’ll be like old times.” The smile on Charlotte’s face told Abigail that any problems they encountered would be surmounted with laughter. That was good. That was very good.

  “I thought I’d better warn you.” Ethan found Jeffrey on his way to the hospital. Though Ethan had been less than pleased by the order to ensure that the canine problem was resolved, it was an easier task than his friend’s. Today was Jeffrey’s day to listen to the surgeon’s complaints. It was the same each week. The doctor claimed that the enlisted men currently serving as nurses were negligent in their duties and required discipline. The men groused that the extra twenty cents a day pay they received was insufficient for the indignity of cleaning bedpans, not to mention the increased likelihood of contracting a communicable disease. Working in the bakeries, though unspeakably hot during the summer, was preferable to hospital duty, or so the men insisted. There was no way to resolve the problem other than to rotate men out of the hospital, but that had the predictable effect of causing the surgeon to complain that he had to train a fresh group.

  “Is Dr. Pratt on the rampage again?” Jeffrey slowed his pace, as if grateful for an excuse to delay his meeting.

  “Not that I heard. I just thought you should know that it appears you’re going to have a new addition to your household.”

  Jeffrey grinned. “That’s not news. If you recall, I told you that. Late October’s when the child is expected.”

  Ethan suspected Jeffrey’s grin would fade when he heard about the morning’s events. “I wasn’t referring to that addition. There’s a four-footed one, and he came today.”

  As three dogs rounded the corner of the sutler’s store and began to bark, Jeffrey frowned. “Not a dog. Say it isn’t so.”

  “’Fraid I can’t. Abigail decided to rescue a puppy. For some reason, she seemed to think your wife needed a pet.”

  “What Charlotte needs is one fewer sister.” Jeffrey’s frown turned into a scowl. “I can’t explain it, but the first time I met Abigail, I knew I didn’t like her. Have you ever felt that way?”

  Ethan had. One of the other plebes had gotten under his skin the first year at the Point. He’d never been able to identify the reasons, but he’d gone out of his way to avoid the man. Still, it was hard to understand how Abigail could have affected Jeffrey that way.

  “No matter what I do,” Jeffrey continued, “I suspect we’re stuck with Abigail for the rest of the summer. She told Charlotte she’d only be here for a couple weeks, but I don’t believe her. Heaven only knows how much trouble she’ll cause before she leaves.” Jeffrey shook his head again. “A dog.”

  “It might not be so bad.” Abigail’s assertion that everyone needed to play continued to reverberate through Ethan’s brain. Was that part of the men’s discontent? Unlike the officers, enlisted men had little free time for play. Their days were filled with drilling and the much-hated fatigue duties. Though he didn’t claim to be an expert, it seemed to Ethan that the officers’ wives had the opposite problem—too much idle time. “I imagine life here is lonely for the women.”

  Jeffrey did not agree. “How can that be? It seems there’s always something going on. If it isn’t a tea party, they’re organizing a sewing circle. You’re wrong, Ethan.” It was a measure of Jeffrey’s distress that he used Ethan’s given name in public. “Charlotte’s not lonely. She does not need a dog, and she most definitely does not need Abigail. Everything was fine until she arrived.” Jeffrey frowned. “There’s got to be a way to stop Abigail from meddling.”

  He stared into the distance, as if the answer would come down the hill from the hospital, but all that came was a warm breeze. After a few seconds, Jeffrey snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea. You should start taking your meals with us, and maybe you could escort Abigail on a walk a couple times a week. That might keep her too busy to concoct a new scheme.”

  It might, but it sounded dangerously like courting. “I’m not interested in your matchmaking.”

  Jeffrey’s eyes widened in what appeared to be genuine surprise. “It’s not that. Heavens, no. The last thing I want is for you to marry Abigail. I’d never get rid of her if you did. Besides, you’re safe. Charlotte says she’s practically engaged to one of the other teachers at that girls’ academy in Vermont.”

  Casual as they were, Jeffrey’s words hit Ethan with the force of a mule’s kick. It stood to reason that a woman as beautiful as Abigail would be spoken for. He shouldn’t care—he didn’t care—that Abigail had a sweetheart. After all, it wasn’t as if he were searching for a wife. Oliver was the one who chased everything in a skirt. And yet there was no denying that Abigail was different from the other women Ethan had met.

  Jeffrey was still talking, oblivious to the odd sensation in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. “All I need is for you to occupy a bit of her time. Any time Abigail’s with you is time she can’t be making mischief.” Jeffrey rolled his eyes and grimaced. “A dog. I won’t even ask what could be next for fear it will happen.”

  “Think of it this way. Maybe a dog will keep both your wife and Abigail busy.”

  “C’mon, Ethan. I need your help. We West Pointers have to stick together. Besides, Mrs. Channing makes a fine roast.”

  That she did. And the truth was, spending time with Abigail would be no hardship. Unlike the women his grandfather had chosen for him, Abigail appeared capable of discussing matters other than ladies’ fashions. She’d demonstrated strength on the stagecoach, and this morning had proven that underneath that cool exterior was a tenderhearted woman, one who cared for a little puppy and, unlike most of the females he had met, one who didn’t mind a little mud on her clothing. No doubt about it. Abigail Harding was an intriguing woman.

  “All right,” Ethan agreed, “as long as you understand there’s nothing romantic about it.”

  “Of course not.” Jeffrey flashed him a triumphant grin. “Your heart is safe.”

  “You are the luckiest man alive.” Without waiting for an invitation, Oliver settled himself in one of the chairs in Ethan’s room and stretched his legs out before him.

&nbs
p; Ethan stopped polishing his boots long enough to frown. “A lucky man wouldn’t have to worry about his men deserting.” Though the men had completed what he referred to as the canine detail without too much complaining, he couldn’t forget how disgruntled they’d been at the thought of chasing packs of dogs, nor could he forget that two of his men had deserted last week. They were the reason he’d gone to Cheyenne.

  “You need to stop worrying about them. If Captain Westland wanted you to worry about them, he wouldn’t have assigned you to take care of the stray dogs.”

  And wasn’t that a sorry state of affairs—rounding up dogs rather than deserters? While the captain’s assertion that the desertion rate was far lower than it had been a year ago was accurate, Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about Johann Schiller and the other man and wondering whether some of the soldiers under his command would be joining them. Schiller had deserted only a week after Ethan had arrived at Fort Laramie, but during that time he’d observed that the man was well-regarded by the others. Had his discontent poisoned them? Perhaps he had been in contact with Wessen and Kelly, the men who’d left last week, and that was the reason they had gone over the hill. If so, it was possible that others were getting ready to leave. It would be bad enough if there were more deserters, even worse if they started robbing stagecoaches.

  Oliver rubbed his nose, a sure sign that he was excited. “Forget the deserters. What’s important is that you’re going to see Miss Harding twice a day, every day. I’d give anything to be in your boots.”

  Giving the boots in question a final buff, Ethan managed a grin. “The food will be better than our usual fare,” he conceded.

  “Food? Who cares about food? As long as it’s not mushrooms, I’ll eat anything. What I want is a wife.”

  “I hate to disappoint you, but if you’re considering Miss Harding for that position, I hear she’s practically engaged to some professor back home.”

  Oliver grimaced. “You just found something that turns my stomach more than mushrooms.” Oliver clutched his midriff, feigning gastric distress. Then a smile split his face. “You said ‘practically,’ didn’t you?” When Ethan nodded, Oliver’s smile widened. “That means there’s hope. If the man was foolish enough to let Miss Harding come all this way without him, he can’t love her as much as I do.”

  “You haven’t even met her.”

  Oliver would not be discouraged. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was the woman for me. Now all I need to do is figure out a way to afford a wife. Miss Harding deserves more than a second lieutenant’s pay.” Oliver leaned back and closed his eyes, as if the lack of visual distractions would improve his cogitation. “There’s got to be a way.”

  And there had to be a way to improve morale enough that men wouldn’t want to desert.

  Ethan placed his soup spoon carefully on the plate and smiled at his hostess. There was no doubt about it. The food at the Crowley residence was far superior to that served to bachelor officers. As for the enlisted men’s fare—the best that could be said about their rations was that a soldier didn’t starve. But here a man didn’t simply eat; he dined. Since the day was cooler than normal for June, Mrs. Channing had prepared a thick, creamy soup and served it with freshly baked bread. Delicious. The only thing that marred the meal was Mrs. Channing’s frequent frowns, all of which seemed to be attributable to the puppy, whose barks made it clear he was not pleased with being relegated to a box in the hallway when the two-legged members of the household were elsewhere.

  Ethan turned to his hostess. “It doesn’t sound as if your dog is too happy.”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Charlotte’s smile was brighter than Ethan had ever seen it, confirming the wisdom of Abigail’s seemingly impulsive action. “Whenever Puddles misbehaves, he’s Abigail’s dog.”

  As Abigail chuckled, Ethan gave her a smile. It wasn’t his imagination. The chilly atmosphere that had filled this room yesterday was gone, replaced by what appeared to be genuine happiness. “Then I guess he’s yours most of the time. Including right now.”

  Abigail shrugged. “He just wants someone to play with him. Think about it. We took him away from his littermates and the rest of the pack. Now he wants to join this pack.”

  Though Jeffrey appeared appalled by the description of his family as a pack, Ethan couldn’t disagree with Abigail’s assessment, especially since it dovetailed with the idea that had obsessed him since this morning.

  “Do you agree, Jeffrey?” he asked. “Do you think everyone needs to play?” Though Jeffrey had no way of knowing it, his answer was critical to Ethan’s plans.

  Jeffrey took a sip of cool tea before he replied. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but yes, I do believe everyone needs some play.” His lips tightened as the puppy’s barks turned to whimpers. “Not necessarily with a dog, though. So, Ethan, what did you have in mind? And don’t pretend you haven’t concocted some scheme. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Ethan had no intention of denying it. “I was thinking of a bat and ball, not a dog.” Abigail’s comments about boredom had haunted him, and when she’d spoken of the need for play, the idea had sprung into his mind. “I know some of the other forts have baseball teams,” he continued. “From what I’ve heard, they’re popular, probably because they give the men something to do with their free time.”

  Abigail’s eyes sparkled almost as much as they had when she’d rescued Puddles. “That might lessen your desertion rate.”

  Exactly. “I have to admit that was part of my motive. I wouldn’t want anyone at Fort Laramie to be bored.” Ethan stressed the final word and was pleased when Abigail laughed. She might have found the stagecoach ride and the countryside boring, but she showed no sign of ennui now.

  “Then Charlotte and I will have to watch the games, won’t we?” Abigail gave her sister a fond smile as she added, “Can’t you picture Puddles’s excitement?”

  When Charlotte nodded, Ethan’s spirits rose another notch. There was only one more person to convince. “What about you, Jeffrey? Would you be willing to be the captain of a team?” Though Ethan was confident his company would like the idea, they needed an opponent.

  Jeffrey’s grin was almost as wide as it had been this morning when he had announced his son’s impending arrival. “And have the opportunity to trounce you? You bet!”

  “Oh, my dear, you must tell us all about your ordeal.” Mrs. Montgomery, the taller of the two women who’d come to visit Charlotte, peered over the top of her spectacles. If she minded that her hostess had disappeared into the kitchen to order tea for them, she gave no signal, but addressed her conversation to Abigail. “I was simply appalled when I heard you’d ridden that stagecoach all alone.”

  “Now, Adele, she wasn’t alone,” the second woman, who’d been introduced as Mrs. Alcott, said. “Lieutenant Bowles was on the coach.” She gave Abigail a sly smile. “You couldn’t have asked for a better traveling companion. Why, Lieutenant Bowles is the most eligible bachelor at the fort.”

  Abigail nodded slowly as she chose her words. Whatever she said, she did not want to give these women, who appeared to devour gossip as Puddles had the dried ends of the roast, any misconceptions. It was true that Ethan’s company was pleasant and that she enjoyed his ready sense of humor as well as his obvious concern for his men, but that didn’t mean Abigail cared about him romantically. She did not. It was Woodrow she loved, not a man who’d never have a permanent home, not a man who wore a gun and was trained to kill.

  “I was thankful Lieutenant Bowles was there,” Abigail told her sister’s guests. “I don’t know what would have happened to the other passengers and me otherwise.” When she closed her eyes, she could still picture the German-speaking deserter’s malevolence.

  “Who else was on the coach?” Mrs. Alcott asked.

  As Abigail named the other passengers, Mrs. Montgomery raised an eyebrow. Tall and what Mama would call statuesque, though Abigail would have applied the adjective “plump,” Mrs. Montgomery appeared t
o believe that her carrot-red hair and green eyes were best complemented by flamboyant clothing. That was the only reason Abigail could imagine that she had chosen a peacock blue dress. In contrast, her companion’s demure cream-colored muslin appeared almost mousy. “Mrs. Hiram Dunn?” Mrs. Montgomery asked.

  “I don’t believe she mentioned her husband’s name. All I know is that they owned a ranch north of here and that she’s been widowed for a few years.”

  “Then that’s not Mrs. Hiram Dunn. He was a miner who struck it rich at Deadwood and settled in Cheyenne. It’s odd, though.” Furrows appeared between Mrs. Montgomery’s brows. “I thought I knew all the ranchers in this part of the territory. You see, my husband is considering settling here once his commitment is over, so he’s taken it on himself to learn who’s who among the ranchers. I don’t recall any Dunns, though.”

  Mrs. Alcott intervened. “It’s of no importance, Adele. What matters is that Abigail is here, and we need to welcome her to Fort Laramie properly. I think we should hold a dance in her honor. That will give all the men a chance to meet her.”

  Where was Charlotte when she needed her? Abigail smiled as sweetly as she could, addressing her reply to both women, though she sensed that Mrs. Montgomery was the dominant one. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but it would be unfair to give anyone the impression that I’m . . .” She paused, once again searching for the right word. At last she settled on available. “When I return to Vermont, I expect to be betrothed to one of my colleagues.”

  Mrs. Montgomery gave a small harrumph. “My dear, it’s only a dance.” As Charlotte entered the parlor carrying the tea tray, Mrs. Montgomery smiled. “Isn’t that right, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte nodded. “The enlisted men will have their baseball games, and we’ll have a dance. It’s perfect.” Lifting the teapot, Charlotte filled a cup and handed it to Mrs. Montgomery. “Now, ladies, what do you think would be the best date?”