by Donna Dalton
Meredith grabbed for the officer. “Stop, Lieutenant. It’s just a pe—”
Lightning flashed, accompanied by a loud bellow of thunder. Amid the bedlam, a footstool zipped across the floor. The lieutenant’s feet tangled with the stool and lost the scuffle. He fell forward and landed with a thump on the floorboards.
No. No. No. She rushed across the floor and bent over him. “Lieutenant, are you all right?”
Red splotches stained his cheeks and flushed his ears. Heaving a strangled grunt, he rolled away and pushed to his feet. He towered over her, his mouth folded into a rigid line. She let go the breath she’d been holding. Not injured then. Just mad as a wet hen.
His scowl lit on the stool. “Where in tarnation did that stool come from? It wasn’t there before.”
She gave Gabe a quick glare. She’d deal with the miscreant later. For now, she had to convince the lieutenant he didn’t see what he saw. She nudged the stool with her toe. “You must be mistaken. The footstool was there. The lightning must have blinded you for a second, and you didn’t see it.”
“I’m certain my path was clear. Blasted storm.” He gave another exasperated grunt and looked around the room. “Where is my hat?”
Robbie popped from behind the chair with the lieutenant’s uniform hat wobbling on his head. “It’s right here, sir.”
Lieutenant Booth reached the child in two strides. He snatched up the hat and brushed the brim. “Look here. You’ve soiled it with your grubby hands.”
Robbie’s eyes went wide as wagon wheels. His bottom lip dipped into a pout. He didn’t expect such a harsh reaction from the officer. Neither did she.
Meredith scooted between the two and gave the boy a gentle nudge. “Go on back to the blanket, Robbie.”
“But, Miss Talbot, I only wanted to—”
“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s all right. Go back to the blanket.”
Robbie glowered at the lieutenant, clearly wanting to say more. She couldn’t blame him; she wanted to give the officer a good tongue-lashing for his brutish behavior. But doing so might make things worse. Best to just remain silent and avoid fanning any flames.
As the boy wheeled around, the lieutenant stopped him with an outthrust hand. “Wait. Is that a mouse in your pocket?”
Meredith stuffed down a groan. She couldn’t explain away the long tail dangling from the boy’s trouser pocket. “Yes. That is a mouse. It’s Robbie’s pet.”
“His pet? It’s a filthy rodent.”
Robbie shoved up his chin. “Petunia is not filthy. She washes for supper just like we do. You shouldn’t have tried to squash her.”
“Was it you? Did you push that stool in front of me to protect that creature? Someone ought to take a strap to you.”
Robbie stiffened, eyes brimming with tears. Anger climbed inside her. No one treated her children in such a harsh manner. No one. She prodded the boy forward. “Go and finish your supper, Robbie. I’ll handle this.”
The boy tossed the lieutenant a hurtful glare and shuffled to the blanket. Meredith rounded on the officer, unable to hold back her wrath. “There was no reason to threaten the boy like that. He had no hand in your clumsiness.”
Lieutenant Booth turned his glower on her. “Miss Talbot, you run the most unorthodox establishment I have ever encountered.”
“It may appear that way to someone not accustomed to children, but I assure you, they are happy and thriving.”
“Such anarchy will only lead to trouble; I can assure you of that.” He shoved on his hat. “I’ll leave you to your…whatever it is you are doing. Good night.”
She stared at his retreating back. She was right to keep her desire for him in check. He didn’t understand her or the children. Even if she did entertain the idea of having a relationship, he was entirely the wrong man.
Why then did her stomach feel as if it had been stomped?
****
A tiny heel dug into her thigh. An elbow poked her ribs. Meredith groaned upright. The bed was barely wide enough for one person. Add two more bodies, small though they were, and sleep was nearly impossible. It didn’t help that her mind churned with thoughts of the impending move and of the handsome officer who had brought all that turmoil to her doorstep. Perhaps if she stretched her legs and took in a breath of fresh air, it might help her to relax. Then she could find some rest before the sun and the children wakened.
She pushed aside the sheet and slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. The last thing she wanted was to disturb Anna or Becky. The girls had insisted on sleeping with her, claiming the storm was too scary. It had taken nearly an hour for the two twitchy magpies to settle down and fall asleep. This getaway required stealth and silence.
She gathered her robe and padded barefoot to the door. Shoes would only clunk noisily on the floorboards. She would be fine without them.
The door thankfully opened without a squeak. Once in the hallway, she tugged on her robe and sailed for the stairs. A single gong of the parlor clock drifted up the staircase. Not much of the night left. She’d have to hurry with her relaxing.
She made it to the main floor and out the front door without incident. Moonlight shimmered on the glistening puddles dotting the front yard. Stars winked in the broad, black sky. Against that soothing backdrop, the night insects played their courting songs. She leaned against the porch railing and drew in several deep breaths of cool, refreshing air. Perfect. Just what she needed. She closed her eyes and savored the peacefulness.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
She whirled toward the sound, a gasp escaping her lips. Though the shadows obscured him, the owner of that commanding voice was unmistakable. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Not because of him—because he had frightened her.
“Lieutenant Booth.” She clutched the robe tighter against her. “You startled me.”
“My apologies. I should have made my presence known.”
Why hadn’t he? Surely he’d seen her come out onto the porch. Had he been appraising her? The mere thought of his intimate inspection set her blood to simmering. Heat climbed up her neck and flamed in her face. She turned away, not wanting him to see her reaction to him. She didn’t want to encourage any boldness. Not when they were alone and under the intimacy of darkness.
“It appears the storm has moved on.” A silly thing to say. It was obvious the storm had abated. But her flustered mind couldn’t think of anything more suitable.
Boot heels thudded softly across the porch and stopped just shy of the railing. Her senses tingled, aware of his presence without the need for touching.
“Weather cleared off about an hour ago. If you’re worried about the renegades, don’t. My men and I have the house well guarded. Besides, the storm has most likely put a damper on any attacks tonight.”
His deep voice rumbled through her. She stiffened against a responding shiver of delight. “A blessing in disguise, my Aunt Mildred would say.”
“Mrs. Campbell is your aunt?”
“Yes, my mother’s sister.” Though her father would never claim Mildred as any type of kin. He had never talked about his sister-in-law. Never even acknowledged she existed until Mildred’s existence halfway across the country provided a solution to a thorny problem with his afflicted daughter.
“Why did she build an orphanage in the middle of the Indian Territories? And why call it Seaton House? We aren’t anywhere near the sea.”
“From what she tells me, she was able to get the place at a reasonable price. Until now, she’s had no problem with the location. As for the name, it comes from one of our ancestors who lived in England centuries ago. Mistress Seaton began taking in orphans and cast-offs and providing them with food and shelter. It was a tradition that continued generation after generation.” He didn’t need to know that Martha Seaton was the first in their line to be gifted with the power of visions and that the children she took in were anything but normal.
“Is that why you came to Mineral? To carry on the tradition?�
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“Partly. The orphanage was growing too much for Mildred to handle alone. My father sent me to help.” Not quite the truth, but it would have to suffice.
“I don’t recall seeing you in town before. Have you been here for very long?”
Some days, it felt like decades. “I arrived about eight months ago. And you? How long have you been at Fort Dent?”
“Almost a year. I came from Fort Leavenworth where I’d been stationed after graduating from West Point.”
She had passed through Leavenworth on her way west. The frontier town was much larger and more civilized than she had expected. Hundreds of buildings lined the streets, from haberdasheries to theatres to elegant hotels. And the people. Thousands of them—soldiers, civilians, and immigrants from all corners of the world. It was a soup pot of humanity.
“That must have been quite an adjustment, going from the comforts of Leavenworth to the wilds of the Indian territories.”
“I go where the army sends me.”
The barest hint of bitterness spiked his tone. His fingers tightened around the porch railing, knuckles whitening. Was he unhappy with his assignment? Life in the territories did require an adjustment. It had taken her weeks to become accustomed to the lack of amenities. Now, she preferred the seclusion and simplicity to lavish comforts.
“What made you decide on the military, Lieutenant?”
“My father was a career officer…as was my grandfather and his father before that.”
“A family tradition, then. Like mine.” Although one aspect of her family heritage wasn’t at all voluntary. “Are any of them still serving?”
“My grandfather passed on years ago. My father retired after the War Between the States. He and my mother live in a small seaside town in Connecticut.”
“Is that where you’re from, Connecticut?”
“I’m from all over the country. We moved from garrison to garrison, wherever my father was stationed.” He released the railing and turned, head tilted and eyes shadowed by his hat brim. “From the lack of any distinctive accent, I’m guessing you come from the East as well. Maryland or possibly Pennsylvania?”
A night beetle buzzed around her head, no less pesky than his questions. She waved the insect away. The lieutenant wouldn’t be so easy to brush off.
“How perceptive you are. I grew up on my family’s estate in Pennsylvania.” Thoughts surfaced of the tall, columned mansion overlooking vast fields dotted with white-faced cattle—of the barns and the flower gardens and the family cemetery that held her mother, her grandparents, and more recently her stepbrother. A cloud passed over her heart. His death had been the reason for her exile from Hickory Hills. Not that she could blame her father for sending her away. She blamed herself just as much. If she had just kept the details of her vision to herself, Charles might still be alive.
“You must have left many a broken heart behind.”
His softly spoken comment knifed into her. She hadn’t left behind any broken hearts. Her father’s stony expression as her train left the station house had been quite clear. She was dead to him.
She spun for the door. His questions had unearthed memories better left in their coffins. “It’s getting late. I should go back inside.”
“Wait.” His hand shot out and closed around her arm. “That was far too personal. I apologize.”
Moonlight played across his face. His mouth parted, and her mind exploded with thoughts of those lips capturing hers. She’d only been kissed once when she was sixteen. The stable master’s son’s fumbling efforts hadn’t brought on the knee-melting response her maid went on and on about. Perhaps she hadn’t been kissed by the right man.
Instead of kissing her, he stiffened, his expression hardening to steel. Before she could ask what was wrong, he tugged her behind him.
“Keep still,” he whispered as he drew his pistol from its holster.
“What is it?”
“Something moved out in the shadows.”
The click of a cocking hammer crawled over her skin. She risked a peep around him. Nothing moved in the yard or on the long stretch of driveway. Yet the night insects had stopped their singing, a sure sign of an intruder. “Is it the renegades?”
“I don’t know. Be quiet now.”
She buttoned her mouth and huddled against him. His breaths were even and measured—his muscles taut and steady. Not a panicked bone in his body. She felt safe, protected. She didn’t want to think about what else she felt around him.
After a few minutes, he relaxed and lowered his pistol. “It’s all right. It’s just a mangy dog.”
She let go a relieved breath and stepped from behind him. A big shaggy brute trotted out of the gloom and headed toward the house. She smiled and moved to the top of the steps. “It’s Buster. My neighbor’s herding dog. He often comes to visit, though not usually this late at night.”
The dog clambered up the stairs, and she bent to rub his ears. “What are you doing out and about, big fella?”
Buster nuzzled her palm and slopped a tongue over her fingers. He peered up at her through his good eye, the other one permanently sealed shut.
“That’s an ugly scar. What happened to him?” asked the lieutenant.
“He was injured chasing off a coyote that tried to attack his owner’s sheep.”
“Humph. The beast nearly lost his other eye. He should stay home where he belongs.”
“He’s a good, boy. Aren’t you, Buster?” She gave the dog one final pat and prodded him off the steps. “Go on now. It’s time for you to go home.”
As the dog loped away, she straightened. “He shouldn’t bother you any more tonight.”
“For his sake, I hope not.”
He couldn’t be that hard-hearted. Surely some softness lurked beneath that armor. She wouldn’t be so drawn to him otherwise. And that concerned her. She didn’t want to be drawn to him. It would only cause problems, and she already had enough of those to fill a bottomless lake.
She turned for the door. “I should go back to bed. The sun and the children will be up soon.”
“Good night, Miss Talbot. Sleep well.”
Sleep? Well? Neither was likely. His silky voice and fiery touch had awakened both her mind and her body. So much for finding relaxation.
Chapter Four
His assignment was plagued. From the missing child to the broken axle to the ill-timed weather, moving the inhabitants of Seaton House was like trying to forge a thaw-swollen river. For every step forward, the currents pushed him back two.
And now this.
Sometime during the night, vandals had tossed the orphans’ trunks out of the crippled wagon and destroyed their contents. Though the storm had been gusty, the winds weren’t strong enough to shred cotton garments into ribbons. Only a knife could render such damage.
He squatted and ran a finger over a depression in the dirt. Unshod pony tracks. Renegades most likely. They had probably come upon the abandoned wagon and decided to vent their anger. That meant they were close. Too close. He had to get Miss Talbot and the children to the safety of the fort—fast.
He rose and mounted his horse. Miss Talbot stood near the side of the road, plucking clothes from the bushes. Her gown stretched across her curves. Nicely shaped curves. And soft. He’d felt every gentle slope, every valley, when he’d pulled her behind him on the porch. As pleasant as that felt, it couldn’t be repeated. The last thing he needed was a romantic entanglement. He wasn’t ready to settle down just yet. And when he was, it would be to an obedient, disciplined woman. Willfulness was not a favorable attribute for an officer’s wife.
He reined in his lust and his mount. “Find anything salvageable?”
She straightened and swiped a stray curl with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge trailing across her forehead. “I’m afraid not. Most of the clothes are damaged beyond repair.”
“That’s unfortunate. If I had any idea this was going to happen, I would have sent the men back to collect the
trunks.”
“Surely the storm couldn’t have done all this.”
A frown puckered her mouth. He wanted to kiss it away. He shifted for a less restricting position in the saddle instead. “It wasn’t entirely the storm. I found unshod pony tracks stamping the ground around the wagon. My best guess is the renegade Indians are the culprits.”
Her anxious gaze swept the surrounding woods. “I didn’t realize they were this close.”
“No need to worry. My men scouted the area before our arrival. It’s safe.” For now.
“That’s a relief.” She held up a shirt that could have passed for a battle-tattered guidon. “Though it doesn’t help our situation any. I suppose we’ll just have to make do with the clothes we have until more can be procured.”
On her, a burlap sack would look like a ball gown. “I’m sure my commander will assist you with that. Major Allen has been quite generous to those in need.”
A dirt clod thumped the ground near her feet. She turned and glared at the two boys huddled in the ditches lining the roadway. “Gabe, Robbie, stop throwing dirt. If you’re finished gathering the clothes, go and get in the wagon.”
The two mischief-makers stopped their battling and raced for the wagon. Good. It was time they started for the fort anyway—before some other calamity befell this ill-fated band of misfits.
“We’ve lingered longer than we should have. I instructed my men to get you all back on the road and heading for the fort as soon as possible.” He nestled his hat tighter on his head. “I’m going to ride ahead. Let Major Allen know you are on the way so preparations can be made and housing located.”
“A place for all of us…together.”
“I am well aware of your conditions, Miss Talbot.”
“Just making certain.” The hard lines around her mouth softened. “This is important to us—to me.”
He wanted her to have it too. Damn if she hadn’t gotten under his skin. But she was an itch he couldn’t scratch. His father had warned him to keep his eye on the prize. His career should be paramount to all else. Miss Talbot, with her unrestrained spirit and inviting curves, was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
