She murmured, "I don't think I have a husband. I'm not sure of anything, but I have a feeling I'm alone in the world."
He did touch her then, for only a brief moment. His fingertips touched her face, then withdrew quickly. "As lovely as you are, you never have to be alone. Several of my men have asked whose permission they need to court you."
"I don't want to be courted," she told him quickly, stepping back, disturbed. "I would prefer to be left alone. Maybe I should leave here, go on to Tucson. I've no reason to stay at this fort."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "I'd hate for you to leave, Miss Marshall. But may I call you Julie?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "I've talked to Dr. Mangone, and he assures me your memory will return. Until it does, you need someone to look out for you, and I would be honored if you would allow me to be that someone."
"That's very kind of you, sir." Oh, why was he affecting her this way? It wasn't just his good looks. There was something else, a quality, a gentle manner she found most appealing. She needed friendship. And he was right, she did need a protector until she could sort things out. Later she was sure she could take care of herself.
"Please," he said laughing and looking at her closely, "I do consider myself a gentleman. I don't intend to seduce you—though I would be less than honest if I said the thought hadn't occurred to me. You are a beautiful woman and you appeal to me very much. But I want to look out for you. Will you allow me to do that?"
Julie couldn't help smiling at his frankness, and she was warmed by his concern. "Of course," she told him, "I'm honored. But are you sure your wife won't mind?"
"Elisa doesn't like anything I do," he said tightly, then dismissed the unpleasant subject with a wave. "Tomorrow, I'll take you on a grand tour of our modest little fort. Do you ride? I'll show you the countryside. There's a large lake not too far from here, and it's safe to go there as long as we take a patrol."
"I wonder whether I'll ever feel safe again," she mused, more to herself than to him. "There's so much I need to remember. The war. I can't remember anything about the war. I assume I'm a Southerner, but I don't know where I came from. And, in a way, I don't want to remember my past at all."
"The wagon train left from Brunswick, Georgia, so perhaps your home is not far from there. It will all come back," he said hesitantly. "Just don't rush things. I'm from the South, too, but when the war broke out, I joined the Union forces."
He proceeded to tell her what problems that decision had caused among his Southern friends and, particularly, with Elisa's family, who were believers in slavery and the Confederacy.
Julie was deeply sympathetic as she listened to him. "I don't feel I would have believed in slavery," she said firmly.
"As gentle and compassionate as you are?" he said. "No, no, Julie Marshall, not you. There's too much warmth in your heart. You couldn't stand to see anyone hurt."
Julie realized she liked Adam Thatcher. He was a fine man, gentle in his way, yet severe when it came to defending something he truly believed in. She wanted his friendship. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "Thank you for wanting to help me, Adam. I know we're going to be good friends."
He gazed down at her, moved by her radiant, ethereal beauty. Moonlight filtering through the drifting silver clouds above bathed them, transforming the ugly stockade into a lovelier scene. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, but he didn't dare.
Julie felt something happening to them, something that shouldn't happen if they were going to be friends. "I'll say good night now," she murmured softly, knowing she had to leave right then. "Thank you for talking with me, Adam. I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow."
She turned and walked into the building where her room was, and she didn't look back.
Adam's eyes stayed hungrily upon her until she had disappeared. Then, sighing, he went to check on the sentries, the errand that had brought him outside in the first place.
Unseen, Elisa stood in the shadows, fists clenched at her sides. She had heard only part of their conversation, but what she'd heard had been enough.
Chapter 21
Julie managed to avoid Adam for a whole day and a night, keeping to her little room and asking Mrs. Manes to send a little food in rather than chance a dining-room encounter. But another meeting was inevitable, and when she was obliged to attend a tea for the departing Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. Manes, she found herself just as glad to see Adam as she had feared she would be. She knew his feelings for her were dangerous, but she was so lonesome, so badly in need of his warmth. She needed a friend. Surely that was no crime, was it?
So it was both pleasurable and frightening to find herself alone with Adam, in a corner of the dining room, sipping champagne and hoping Elisa didn't see them together and make a scene. The other guests were gathered around the Maneses, laughing and talking, everyone caught up in the excitement of their leaving—and everyone wistfully envious of the older people.
No one could hear them, so Julie boldly asked the question that had been bursting inside her for some time. "Adam, why did you marry Elisa when you constantly find fault with her?"
He was taken aback by her candor, but he answered honestly. "Our families wanted it, and to be fair, Elisa is a lovely woman. She can be quite charming and desirable when she wants to be. Unfortunately, she doesn't want to be... anymore. And I didn't see the nasty side to her until it was too late. I'd thought she was just, well, temperamental." He paused, then finished explaining. "It was over for us long ago, and I'd made up my mind the marriage had to end. I requested duty out here and left her behind, but when I made a visit home, I'm afraid I let my male weakness betray me. She became pregnant, and we have to stay married. So now you know the situation."
Julie felt sorry for the man. Elisa was cruel and selfish. But, in fact, they did have to stay married because of the baby. Her head began to ache, and she said tightly, "Please, Adam, I have no right to hear these things. Your marriage difficulties are your own and should be kept private."
"But that's what friends are for, isn't it?" he asked irritably.
She looked up in amazement. He was angry with her. Why?
"Perhaps, someday, you'll feel the need to confide in me. I assure you, I won't be as unsympathetic with you as you've been with me."
He turned and left her, joining the other officers who were gathered around their departing commander, making toasts. She stared after him, bewildered by the outburst. But there was little time to dwell on Adam because Elisa suddenly appeared, slightly tipsy on champagne. "I could tell by that stiff-necked walk of Adam's that you did something to make him mad, Julie, dear. What happened? Did you refuse to meet him later to do what you do best—roll around like a bitch in heat?"
Julie was stunned, but she wasn't going to let Elisa goad her into a quarrel. "I don't have to take that from you, Elisa. Just leave me alone."
"Alone?" Elisa echoed. "My goodness, you certainly don't want my husband to leave you alone. Why, he spends almost as much time with you as he does with our son—which leaves no time for me." Her eyes narrowed. "I don't like that."
"Elisa!" Adam called sharply. "The stagecoach has arrived. We're going outside to see Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. Manes aboard."
"Excuse me." Elisa wrinkled her nose scornfully. "Wifely duties, something you wouldn't know anything about. So you just keep standing there in that pitiful little patched-together dress, while I take up my rightful position as wife of the post commander."
As soon as they'd all gone outside, Julie fled the parlor for the sanctuary of her room. Flinging herself across her bed, she allowed the bitter tears to flow. It wasn't fair, any of it. If only she could understand her feelings for Adam, her bewildering attachment to Adam's baby, her longing for—what? She couldn't get a grip on any of it.
She stared up at the ceiling, images running through her mind. Finally sleep came.
Darkness was covering the window as a knock caused her to sit up, groggy. Without thinking, she called out, "I w
ant to be alone."
"Open up, Julie," Adam called, "or so help me, I'll kick this door down."
She sensed he would do just that, so she got up and unlatched the door, standing back as it swung open. Adam stepped inside, kicked the door closed behind him, and placed strong hands on her shoulders. "I must talk to you, Julie," he said simply. She kept her gaze on the floor, fearing what was coming.
Releasing her, looking down at her, he breathed, "I've wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you, Julie Marshall. You're the most beautiful, most gentle woman I've ever met. I never knew I would want anyone the way I want you."
Shaking her head firmly, she said, "No, Adam. I am not going to let myself get involved with you. You're married. And even if you weren't, I have a feeling deep inside me, deep in my heart... a feeling that I belong to someone, someone, though I've no idea who. Until I find out the truth, I don't intend for any man to touch me."
He reached for her and held her against him. "Julie, I love you. If you were my wife, I'd never let you out of my sight. I'd love you every minute of every day for as long as I live.... I won't let you go, Julie."
The tears spilled forth, and Julie tasted their saltiness as she parted her lips to speak, to protest again. But the words were stifled by his kiss. His hands cupped her face, and his mouth devoured hers. She felt his tongue, probing, possessive, and a warm, liquid fire was ignited within her. She was unable to stop herself from pressing against him, and her hands had a will of their own as they pulled him closer, while her mind cried for her to push him away. In another moment they would have been lovers but for the sudden commotion outside. Shouts and cries followed gunfire. Then there was stillness, followed by more shouting.
At once, cursing, Adam gave in to his military training.
"Later," he promised her. Then he dashed from the room. Julie took a deep, grateful breath. She'd been helpless, the betrayal of her body nearly overtaking her. She was shocked. How little control she had! Uncomfortable with herself, she dashed outside rather than face herself alone in her room.
She found herself standing next to Sergeant Lasker, who informed her that the excitement was over an Indian girl the sentry had seen stumbling toward the stockade gate. The girl had fainted just outside, and they had brought her inside. She was barely conscious, pregnant, and apparently about to give birth.
"She's Navajo. I know a little of the language," Adam was saying to the officers and soldiers. "Where's Dr. Mangone? Let's get her inside. Lift her gently, now."
Elisa came running up just as the Indian girl was being lifted. Looking at the Indian girl, she went into hysterics. "Get her out of here! That dirty Indian is one of them! It was her people that attacked the wagon train. I won't have her on this fort. Get her out, Adam!"
Adam snapped to his men to get moving, get the girl to the infirmary, and then he said very tightly, "Elisa, she may be an Indian, but she's a human being and she's going to have a baby. We're going to do what we can to help her. We'll figure out what to do with her later. Right now I'm not going to stand for any of your outbursts. Do you hear me?"
Julie stared. Elisa looked almost insane. Why was she reacting so viciously? The Indian could do them no harm, certainly not in her present condition. Did memories of the massacre plague Elisa so horribly? Julie wondered whether she wasn't, maybe, better off not recalling anything.
Back inside her room, Elisa allowed herself to vent her fury and panic. She would have to get rid of Julie Marshall once and for all. And what if Sujen told anyone about little Adam actually being Darrell Marshall? Would anyone believe her? Elisa's world was falling apart. She had to act fast. She sat by her window, staring out at the night sky, her mind whirling.
Chapter 22
The infirmary was one small, narrow room, located in a corner of the fort's square complex. It contained only two narrow cots and a table on which instruments and supplies were laid out. There were no windows and no fireplace, and when the chilling winds of winter seeped in through the split log walls, Dr. Mangone ordered buckets of smoldering ashes and chips of wood brought in for warmth.
Dr. Mangone was short, balding, and sometimes quite hard to get along with. Behind his back, the soldiers—not affectionately—called him "The Boston Crab." A private practice in his native Boston would have been far easier, but the doctor had felt called to duty in the wilderness after serving in the Union Army and realizing the dire need for medical men on the frontier. His decision, and his harsh life, made him irritable with himself and everyone else.
"What's this?" he snapped when Sujen was brought in. He removed his thick glasses so he could glare more harshly. "Now you bring me Indian squaws about to give birth to Indians who will grow up to scalp me?"
Adam was used to the doctor's crankiness and knew him for the nice old codger he really was. "What are you worried about, doc?" he grinned. "There's not much on your bald head to scalp, now, is there?"
"I don't need your smart lip, young man," Dr. Mangone snapped, motioning to the soldiers to put the girl down on a cot. "Where'd she come from and what's she doing here?"
Adam told him what little there was to tell, and then they noticed Julie standing uncertainly inside the doorway. "Well," he demanded gruffly, "what are you doing here? Are you a doctor?"
"Hey, doc, go easy on her," Adam said. "She's the only female help you've got, I'm afraid. The others won't help an Indian."
"I'll do anything I can," Julie assured the doctor, who grunted in reply. Adam and the other men left the room, and the doctor said, "Stand by and do what I tell you to do." He lifted Sujen's eyelids, closed them, then stepped back, recoiling. "Damn it to hell, would you look at her? See those bruises and scars? Looks like someone tortured her. She's been beat, cut, and I'd say she's even been burned. God almighty, it's a wonder she's alive! Who could've done this?"
Julie stared at the pitiful little body. To think what the poor girl had endured... "Will she live?" she asked him.
"Maybe." He set to work stripping Sujen of her ragged, dirty buckskin dress, then covered all but her legs with a blanket. With skilled hands, he pressed down on her abdomen, waited for a contraction, then pushed harder. "She's unconscious, so I've got to do all the work," he explained.
Julie watched, tense, ready to do whatever he asked. The doctor pressed Sujen's abdomen again and again.
"All right... it's coming," he cried at last. "Get a blanket from that other cot over there and be ready to take the baby in the blanket when I hand it to you."
Julie got the blanket and positioned herself behind him, his body blocking her view of the girl. Very slowly, he turned around to face her. He was holding a tiny, motionless being, staring down at it. The umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around its neck. The baby was dead.
"It's already started decomposing. Probably been dead several days. Hand me that scalpel over there."
Dizzy, Julie moved toward the table, found the instrument, and gave it to him. He deftly separated the dead baby from its mother, then quickly wrapped the body in the blanket and thrust it into Julie's trembling hands. "Give him to the guard. Tell him to see it's buried right away."
Julie turned to obey.
"And tell him to send word to Captain Thatcher to get someplace warm ready for this woman and to find somebody who'll look after her. I'm going to do all I can, but I'm not sitting up with her all night, and she can't be left in this cold infirmary."
An hour later, Dr. Mangone stepped back from his patient, wearily wiped his hands on a towel, and announced, "She's weak, but with proper care she might pull through. Indian women are stronger than white women. They have to be. Now," he said, sighing, "I'm getting back to my fire and my brandy."
"Wait," Julie called after him as he headed for the door. "The guard hasn't come back. What am I supposed to do with her?"
"Stay with her and keep her warm."
"But I can't do that in here."
"Julie, I'm leaving her in your care," he said wearily. "The c
aptain'll find a place for her."
Exasperated, and more than a little angry, Julie tucked the blanket tightly around the Indian girl and then went outside in search of the guard. Another guard was standing not too far away, and she called to him, "Where is the man who was here earlier? He was to send for Captain Thatcher."
The man shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but he couldn't get through to the captain, so he went to bury the baby. He sent me to relieve him on duty till he could get back. They went outside the post on the burial detail, so I don't know when he'll be back."
"But I need to see Captain Thatcher!" She waved her arms wildly. Good Lord, what was she supposed to do on her own?
"Ma'am, what can I do?" he asked, hoping to soothe her.
"You would be helping a great deal," she said in a more controlled voice, "if you would carry the girl. Follow me, please."
* * *
The first golden fingers of dawn stretched from beyond the eastern mountains as the bugler sounded reveille, bringing the fort to life.
Julie was awake. She hadn't slept at all. She sat in a ladder-back chair near her bed, watching the rise and fall of the Indian girl's chest. Sujen was on Julie's bed, carefully covered in blankets and quilts. Dear Lord, she dreaded being the one to tell her the baby was dead, but there was no one else to do it. No one, it was obvious, wanted anything to do with this girl.
Shortly after reveille was sounded, Adam knocked and called to her softly. Anxious for company, feeling more lonesome than she had since coming to the fort, she hurried to let him in. "Oh, Adam, what happened last night? The baby was born dead, and I couldn't get a message to you—"
"Elisa and her damn social life," he said brusquely, entering the room and closing the door. He walked to the bed and stared down at the girl. "Is she going to live, do you think?"
"Doc Mangone thinks she may, but she hasn't awakened once. Now that everyone is awake, I'd like for some hot broth to be brought in, and hot tea. I'm going to force it down her if I have to, because she's got to start getting some strength back."
This Savage Heart Page 17
