by Amanda Cabot
While he wanted to resolve the mystery, Ethan disliked the direction his thoughts had taken. Like Puddles, he’d circled the question, gnawing at it from different directions, but no matter what he did, no matter how he looked at it, he kept coming to the same conclusion. It made sense to him. The question was, would it make sense to anyone else?
“Jeffrey, I need to talk to you for a minute,” he said when supper was finished. It had been an odd meal. Ethan had been preoccupied, and that had made even casual conversation difficult. Add to that the fact that, while Abigail was visibly excited about her impending class, Charlotte had been almost totally silent, perhaps because of the absence of her dog. And although Jeffrey had eaten with gusto, apparently unaffected by the others’ moods, he had said little.
“I’m in a bit of a hurry.” As they walked onto the porch, Jeffrey gestured toward the left. “I’m headed to the Officers’ Club. Tonight’s poker night, and I don’t want to be late.”
Ethan had forgotten. “I can wait until morning.”
Jeffrey shook his head. “No. Go ahead now. Otherwise, I’ll just keep wondering what the problem is.”
“I didn’t say there was a problem.”
“But there is, isn’t there?” When Ethan nodded, Jeffrey grinned. “I could tell by the tone of your voice that whatever it was, it was troubling you. I hope it has nothing to do with my sister-in-law or that dog.”
“It doesn’t.” Ethan took a deep breath, then said, “I think someone at the fort is involved in the robberies.”
The blood drained from Jeffrey’s face, leaving his freckles in sharp relief against his pale skin. “That’s ridiculous! Where did you come up with a crazy idea like that? We know Schiller is responsible.”
That was the reaction Ethan had feared. “I don’t think he’s working alone. He’s not smart enough, and he wouldn’t know the guards’ schedule. Whoever took the firearms had to know when they wouldn’t be guarded, and that changes every week.” Ethan continued to outline his reasoning, watching his friend’s face. As the color returned, Jeffrey nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the distance. “It sounds pretty far-fetched to me, but I’ll be on the lookout.” Abruptly, he descended the steps and turned to the right.
Ethan blinked in surprise. “The Officers’ Club is that way.”
Jeffrey pivoted on his heel. “Oh . . . right.” He let out a brittle laugh. “See what distraction does?”
“Good evening, gentlemen.” To Abigail’s relief, her voice sounded normal as she greeted her class. She looked around the former bakery that now served as the post’s school. Fourteen of the fifteen students she had expected were seated at tables, their expressions ranging from cautious to eager. Though some of the soldiers were conversing among themselves, most sat stiffly, their tension palpable.
“We will begin our lesson with reading.” Picking up a McGuffey’s Reader from the table that served as her desk, she said, “This is the same book I used when I learned to read. Fortunately for me, you’re more advanced than I was, because you already know the alphabet.” As several men grinned, Abigail sensed that the tension was dissipating. Apparently they had been as apprehensive as she was. Abigail smiled at the realization that the first day of school was always a strain for pupils, regardless of their age.
“Let’s get started. We’re going to go around the room, and each one of you will read a sentence.” It was a technique she had used with her youngest pupils when she’d discovered their attention wandering. “We’ll spell out the unfamiliar words, and everyone will pronounce them. My father made me do that when he taught me German. He told me it wasn’t enough to be able to read the words; I had to know how to pronounce them correctly.” Abigail flashed a rueful smile. “You should have heard me say ‘willkommen’ the first time.” She gave the German greeting an exaggerated American accent, hoping for and receiving a big laugh from the class in response. “Now, let’s begin.”
By the end of an hour, Abigail saw signs of fatigue on her students’ faces and knew that they’d reached their limits for the day. It must be difficult, she thought, to spend the entire day working at Army business, especially when that business included heavy labor like cutting timber or helping construct a new building, and still have any energy left for learning. It was one thing for the men to practice baseball in the evenings. That was a welcome change from the day’s routine, and the physical exertion was nothing more than a continuation of the drills they’d performed during the day. But school demanded mental acuity while sitting almost motionless, a difficult task at any time but much more so at the end of the day.
Abigail closed her book and smiled at the soldiers. “You did exceptionally well, and now I’m going to say those words you’ve been waiting for: class dismissed.”
Before anyone could move, Corporal Keller rose. “This vas good, very good. Thank you, Miss Harding.”
As the sound of applause filled the room, Abigail felt her spirits rise. She might not have been able to help Leah today; she might be confused about Woodrow; she might still be worried about her sister; but at least she had been able to start the men on the path to learning. There was no doubt that this was part of the reason God had led her to Wyoming.
“Oh, Charlotte, it was wonderful,” Abigail told her sister a few minutes later. “I would not have thought it possible, but this was much more fun than teaching children.” The pleasure she had felt working with Leah had not been a fluke. Tonight had been even more rewarding.
Abigail pirouetted, letting her skirts swirl around her high-buttoned shoes. “And it’s all due to you. Every time I looked at this beautiful new frock, I smiled, and that helped the soldiers relax.”
As she had hoped, Charlotte smiled, but the smile appeared forced.
“Is something wrong?” Though there was no evidence of tears, her sister was visibly upset.
“No, it’s just that I wish . . .”
“What do you wish?”
Charlotte’s face crumpled. “I wish Puddles were here.”
“Let’s go see him. Ethan won’t mind. In fact, he’ll be grateful if we take him for a walk.” Puddles was probably already driving him slightly crazy. As Ethan had said, he lived in one room, and the puppy was accustomed to a much larger space.
But although Abigail thought it was a good idea, Charlotte did not. “I can’t. It’ll only make it worse. I won’t want to leave him there.” Charlotte rose, her movements that of a far older woman. “Why don’t you go? I’m going to try to sleep.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”
“I’m sure.” Charlotte closed the distance between them and hugged Abigail. “I’m glad your class went well. I’m happy for you. Truly I am.”
But that did not disguise the fact that Charlotte was not happy for herself. Though it was probably a combination of what Mama would have called Charlotte’s “delicate condition” and the loss of Puddles, knowing that didn’t mean Abigail could change it.
Since there was nothing more she could do for her sister tonight, she tied her bonnet ribbons, pulled on her gloves, and set out for the Bachelor Officers’ Quarters. Though it would not be seemly for her to go inside, the BOQ was close enough to the sutler’s store and the Officers’ Club that there were bound to be men walking by who could tell Ethan of her arrival.
As she rounded the corner past the commanding officer’s quarters, Abigail smiled. She wouldn’t have to send a messenger, for there they were. The tall lieutenant was unmistakable, as was the black and tan puppy straining against the leash. Both were headed in her direction.
“You must have read my mind,” Abigail said when they met in front of Old Bedlam. Two families who were sitting on the second story verandah waved at Abigail, the women’s faces radiating sympathy. It seemed that the story of Puddles’s banishment had spread quickly. Abigail shouldn’t have been surprised, and she tried not to mind that her family had become grist for the rumor mill. Instead, she smiled at Ethan, gratefu
l for the answering smile he gave her.
“I missed the scamp and wondered whether you’d let me take him for a walk.”
Ethan looked at Puddles, who was jumping up and down, his excitement obvious. “I’d say Puddles has the same idea. He practically tore my arm off when he saw you.” Ethan handed her the leash and waited while Abigail patted the dog and murmured reassuring words.
“How is it, being a dog owner?” she asked as they started to walk. Rather than continue the way Ethan had begun, which would have meant passing Puddles’s former home, Abigail headed toward the former cavalry barracks and stables.
Ethan chuckled when Puddles spotted a bunny and jerked on the leash. “I didn’t realize just how much energy a puppy has.”
“But a puppy is not a puppy forever.” Abigail tossed Ethan’s words back at him, hoping he’d continue to smile.
He did. “Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could handle a whirlwind like him for too long.”
Abigail bent down to ruffle Puddles’s ears. His coat was smoother than many dogs’, his ears almost as soft as silk. “You’re not a whirlwind, are you, Puddles?” As if in response, the dog shook his head, then scampered away, once again tugging on the leash, as if suddenly bored by the adults.
“I heard your class went well,” Ethan said as they began to walk. “From all accounts, you’re a born teacher.”
Abigail found herself flushing at the praise. “I enjoy it. The truth is, when I finished class tonight, I had more energy than I can recall. Usually I’m tired by nightfall, but not tonight. That’s why I decided to take a walk.”
“I’m surprised your sister didn’t come with you. I thought she’d miss the dog.”
“She does miss him. Too much. She got used to having Puddles around, but now he’s gone, and if Charlotte is right, Jeffrey won’t relent. I don’t know what to do.” Abigail bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to confide her concerns to Ethan. The words had simply slipped out, perhaps because she felt more at ease with him than she had with anyone other than Charlotte herself.
Ethan tipped his head to one side, as if pondering Abigail’s statement. “It sounds as if she needs something to take her mind off the dog and the fact that you’ll be leaving when summer ends.”
Abigail stopped and stared at Ethan. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She had made a concerted effort not to think about the fact that she and Charlotte would be separated again. When she thought of autumn, and that had happened less frequently over the past few weeks, she focused on her students and the beauty of sugar maples decked out in their fall finery rather than the fact that the season’s change would mean leaving her sister.
“A lot of things are changing in Charlotte’s life.” Though Ethan did not voice the words, Abigail knew that one of those changes would be the baby’s arrival. “My grandfather used to say that the best way to deal with a problem was to keep busy doing something else.” Ethan chuckled. “That advice hasn’t helped me figure out who’s behind the stagecoach robberies, but it might help your sister. What does she enjoy doing?”
Abigail thought for a moment. “She’s a wonderful seamstress, but Jeffrey won’t let her sew for others. He says that would reflect poorly on him.”
Ethan stared into the distance for a moment. “I can’t imagine Jeffrey would object if she didn’t charge for her services. All the officers try to make Christmas special for the enlisted men and their families. What if Charlotte sewed something for them?”
Abigail nodded, remembering how Charlotte and their mother had organized Christmas baskets for the less fortunate parishioners. “She could enlist the other women’s help. They already have a sewing circle, but this would give them a goal.”
And Charlotte would be the perfect person to coordinate everything. Knowing Charlotte, she would find a theme and would design garments to fit it, all the while ensuring that the other wives knew their contributions to the effort were essential. It was something Charlotte could do now and even after the baby arrived. Perfect.
Abigail looked up. Though night was falling, they were close enough to one of the street lamps that Abigail could see the question in Ethan’s eyes. He was still waiting for her to confirm that she liked his suggestion.
“It’s the perfect answer. I love the idea, and I’m sure Charlotte will too. How can I possibly thank you?”
Ethan tilted his head to one side as a mischievous smile curved his lips. “How about another kiss?”
15
A kiss?” Abigail’s eyes widened with something that might have been shock.
How stupid could a man be? Ethan could have kicked himself for the words that had come from his mouth, seemingly of their own volition. Abigail was obviously appalled by the idea of another kiss. Justifiably so. Now that he thought about it, he was appalled. Of course she wouldn’t want to kiss him, especially since the kiss he’d envisioned had been far different from the gentle buss on the cheek she’d given him when he agreed to rescue Puddles. The only excuse Ethan could find for suggesting such a ridiculous thing was that his brain must have taken a leave of absence. That was no excuse at all, especially since his foolishness had upset Abigail. What he needed to do was find a way to ease her discomfort.
“It was a joke, Abigail,” he said, hoping she’d accept the implied apology. “I was teasing.”
“Oh.” Her expression changed. Surely it wasn’t disappointment that he saw reflected from her eyes. It couldn’t be, for he knew she hadn’t wanted to kiss him. As if to prove that, the furrows between her eyes vanished as she said, “A joke. Of course. I understand.”
The awkward moment was past. There was no reason to dwell on it, no reason to even remember how silly he’d been to propose a kiss. And yet that night when Ethan dreamed, it was of a woman kissing him, a woman with Abigail’s hazel eyes and a smile that could light the evening sky.
Unfortunately, there was no way to arrange her hair without peering into the mirror. Abigail tried not to frown when the looking glass reflected dark circles under her eyes. What else had she expected when she’d hardly slept? She could blame it on Charlotte, pretending that if her sister had been awake when she returned, Abigail would not have spent the night tossing and turning. But the truth was, Abigail wasn’t certain that would have helped. She’d lain in bed, reliving the evening. Class had been exhilarating, she’d enjoyed her time with Puddles, but what had kept her from sleep were Ethan’s suggestions. Suggestion, singular, she corrected herself. The Christmas baskets had been a genuine suggestion, the kiss only a joke. That’s what Ethan had said, and yet there had been a gleam in his eyes that had made her believe he was serious, that he had wanted her to kiss him.
Abigail frowned as she twisted her hair into a knot, securing it with half a dozen pins. Had Ethan really wanted to kiss her? The thought was like a haunting refrain that kept repeating itself inside her head. No matter how often she shook her head, it would not go away. She kept remembering his smile and the way his eyes had crinkled when he’d said, “Another kiss.” He hadn’t looked like someone who was teasing, and she . . . Abigail sighed.
There was no point in denying it. She had wanted to kiss him, really kiss him, not simply give him another peck on the cheek. She had wanted to feel his lips pressed to hers. The longing had been so strong that she could almost taste it, and that was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. A woman who was practically engaged to another man did not entertain such thoughts.
It was pure temptation, put in her path so that she would stray. But she wouldn’t. She would not stray. She would not succumb to something she knew was wrong. She would not think about kisses. Whenever those errant thoughts appeared, she would turn them away, keeping her mind firmly fixed on Charlotte. Charlotte was the reason she had come to Wyoming.
A few minutes later, Abigail descended the stairs and followed her sister to the kitchen, waiting until they’d served themselves bowls of porridge before she introduced Ethan’s suggestion. Though she hoped Charlotte would be enthusi
astic, after last night, Abigail wasn’t certain of anything regarding her sister. But then Charlotte smiled, and Abigail’s doubts vanished. The malaise she’d seen the previous evening was gone, replaced by a brilliant smile and eyes that glowed with happiness.
“It’s a wonderful idea!” Charlotte practically crowed. Laying down her spoon, she started planning. “I can sew caps and gloves. You know how I love gloves.” She extended her hand and feigned smoothing a glove over her fingers. “Mrs. Alcott is a wonderful knitter. She can make scarves, and we can tuck some of Mrs. Montgomery’s pretty handkerchiefs into the corners.”
This was the Charlotte Abigail remembered from her childhood, filled with enthusiasm and energy.
When her sister frowned as she picked up her coffee cup, Abigail knew a new thought had assailed her. “What will I do if the others don’t want to participate? I can’t do it all alone,” Charlotte said.
Abigail gave her sister a reassuring smile. “Leave it to me. All you have to do is invite them for tea.”
That afternoon when Mrs. Alcott and Mrs. Montgomery were seated in the parlor, their little fingers properly crooked as they lifted their teacups, Abigail began. “Ladies, I need your help.” Mama had taught her daughters that a sure way to gain people’s approval was to ask for their assistance. “My sister is thinking about a new project, and—as worthy as it is—I don’t believe it would be successful without your expertise.”
