Magic in Her Eyes

by Donna Dalton

  She dropped the sponge in the water and leaned back against the rim. She wouldn’t think about Cordelia’s hatefulness. She would enjoy this little slice of heaven for as long as it lasted. Mrs. Clement had taken the children to the dining hall for supper. Meredith elected to stay behind and enjoy a nice, quiet bath with no interruptions—a treat for all her back-breaking work. Besides, Anna had promised to bring her some food…as had Becky and Robbie and Lily. She would have more than enough to sate her hunger.

  The children had used the tub earlier to bathe. One after the other, they had scrubbed, rinsed, and rinsed again. The tub had to be emptied three times to refresh the dirtied water. Afterward, they had dressed in the clothes that also came with the supplies Lieutenant Booth had procured. She would have to thank him for his promptness in filling her list and also for the few extra items he’d unexpectedly included. The children had enjoyed the peppermint sticks, and Daisy dozed contentedly in her little wooden box lined with blanket scraps. This excursion to the fort wasn’t turning out as bad as she imagined. Perhaps they would survive after all.

  Tepid, lavender-scented water lapped at her aching muscles. She moaned and slunk down as far as the small tub would allow. Some of the bath water sloshed over the sides and puddled on the floor. Let it. It had taken three scrubbings to remove the grime caked on the boards. A little more water wouldn’t hurt.

  The logs that formed the interior walls gleamed in the lamplight, polished now to a soft luster. Cobbled remnants of their shredded clothes hung at the windows, replacing the disgusting webbed curtains. A vase of wildflowers sat on a table surrounded by chairs. All their hard work had been worth the effort. The place looked much homier and inviting. Only a slight, nose-prickling stench remained. Hopefully the lavender possets Maddie had scattered throughout the jailhouse would soon tame the smell.

  Speaking of children…they would be returning before long. She should dry off and dress. She groaned to her feet and stepped out of the tub. After toweling dry, she pulled on her undergarments—frilly bits from her more genteel life in Pennsylvania that had somehow managed to survive the renegade’s defilement. They were as fit for the harsh territories as shoes on a pig. Yet they would have to do until she could wash and dry her more serviceable underthings.

  As she reached for her dressing gown, a hairy, spindly-legged creature the size of a half dollar darted from under the tub. She backed away, a screech spilling up from her lungs.

  The squeal of hinges rang out, and the front door careened open. Lieutenant Booth rushed through the opening with his pistol drawn. She froze. A spider was nothing compared to being alone and half-naked with a man whose mere presence set her body on fire.

  He pulled up, nostrils flaring like a stallion scenting a ready mare. “I heard…you screamed. I thought…”

  Unlike him, she found her wits and snatched up her dressing gown, holding it in front of her. For what little good it did. She didn’t feel the least bit shielded. More like stripped bare and vulnerable beneath his heated stare.

  “Lieutenant Booth. Wh-what are you doing here?”

  His gaze raked over her, hard and fast. He let go what sounded like a frustrated groan and spun on his heels. He leaned against the door jamb, his back rigid as a tree trunk.

  “My apologies,” he rasped. “I didn’t intend to intrude. I spoke with Mrs. Clement at the mess hall. She said you weren’t feeling up to going out and remained behind. I came to see if you were all right. Heard you scream and thought something had happened.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.” Or she would be once her heart stopped racing and her blood cooled.

  “What made you scream like that? It sounded as if you were being attacked.”

  Embarrassing heat rose in her face. Screaming at the sight of a bug seemed childish. For some reason, she wanted him to think of her as a mature woman, not a silly schoolgirl. “It was nothing. A spider caught me off guard.”

  “A spider?”

  She ignored his mocking tone and gave the gown a good shake, making certain the creature hadn’t decided to take up residence in the folds. Only dust motes fluttered from the garment. She wouldn’t require any more saving.

  “The spider is gone now. You can put your pistol away.”

  He gave a throat-clearing cough and shoveled the gun into the holster belted to his waist. “Are you fully covered? Can I turn around?”

  “Not yet, give me…” She slipped her arms into the gown and started working on the buttons. Fingers shriveled and soft from being immersed in water all day refused to cooperate. She fumbled and fidgeted. None of the loops would hook. Rooster’s teeth. At this rate, she’d be here all night. The sooner Lieutenant Booth and his wit-robbing gaze departed, the better.

  “Miss Talbot?”

  “Just a minute…” She focused on the task and finally managed to get all the buttons hooked. “There. Done. You can turn around now.”

  He turned slowly, shucking off his hat as he moved. He glanced from her to the tub and back. Flames flickered in his eyes. Surely he wasn’t imagining her sitting in the bathwater—naked. More heat climbed in her throat and burned in her ears.

  He waved his hat in the direction of the tub. “I see you got the bathing tub.”

  “Um…yes, we did. And everything else on our list too. Thank you for having them sent so promptly.”

  “Only doing my duty. Is there anything else you need?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing that I can think of at the moment.”

  As she stepped forward to collect the wet towel, her foot hit the puddle of spilled water and slipped out from under her. The floor came up to meet her backside. She sat there, blinking in surprise, water seeping into her gown and chilling her bottom.

  Boot heels thumped across the floor. Before she could stop him, the lieutenant was there, leaning over her, his warmth enveloping her like a blanket. He was so close she could see the gold flecks speckling his eyes. The skin around his mouth and jaw glistened with silky smoothness. He’d shaven. The deliciously seductive scent of bay rum assailed her. Her head spun, and she couldn’t stopper a moan.

  His hand curled around her upper arm. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

  She would never be all right. Not while he was around to twist her wits. She shrugged out of his grasp. “It was just a little spill. I should have taken more care.”

  “Are you certain? It looked like a pretty hard fall to me.”

  She was still falling. But he didn’t need to know that. It would only embolden more fiery stares. She grabbed the edge of the tub and pulled herself upright. “There, you see. Fit as a fiddle. I could dance a jig if the yearning came over me.”

  “And do you…have a yearning?”

  Not for dancing. She pushed out a laugh that sounded contrived even to her own ears. “I’m afraid I’d end up on the floor again. My stepmother said I have two left feet and both of them flat.”

  “Your feet look fine to me.”

  She tucked her bare toes under the bottom of her gown. She’d already exposed more of herself to him than she ever wanted.

  “Yes, well…thank you again for all you’ve done for us, Lieutenant. I’ll send for you if there’s anything else we need.” That would not be any time soon; she’d make sure of it.

  Chapter Five

  “He’s right over there, Lieutenant. Fifth stall on the right.”

  The directions weren’t necessary. The location of the disturbance was obvious. Screeching blasted from inside a horse stall where Indian Agent Samuel Finley stood in the opening, wagging a finger at whatever was causing the racket.

  “Come out of there, you little whippersnapper,” the agent scolded.

  “No,” came a shrieked reply. “You can’t take her. I won’t let you.”

  Preston angled for stall. He’d been delivering orders to the morning patrol when Private Womack arrived with news that he was needed in the stables to handle a problem with one of the Seaton House orphans. He’
d sent Womack after Miss Talbot. Until she arrived, he would contain the situation as best he could. Considering the noise, he would have a wearying wait.

  “What’s going on here, Mr. Finley?”

  The agent backed away from the opening, his face red and bloated as an overripe tomato. “Good, you’re here, Lieutenant. I hope you brought a strap with you.”

  “What’s the trouble?”

  “This blasted child won’t let me get to my horse.”

  Preston halted beside the agent. Inside the stall stood a young boy shielding a horse five times the child’s size. Tears streaked a dirty, disheveled face. Bits of chafe peppered curls so white they looked like cotton popping from a boll. Distinctive and quite memorable. As was his awkward and rather embarrassing encounter with the footstool in the Seaton House parlor—all due to this urchin and his penchant for rodents.

  “Young man, come out of there before you get hurt.”

  A dirt smudged chin lifted. “Not until that man finds another horse to ride.”

  “Why does Mr. Finley need to find another horse to ride?”

  “’Cause Honey is sick.”

  The mare stood solidly on all four legs, head up and ears pricked forward. She looked healthier than half of the mounts allocated to this godforsaken outpost. “The horse doesn’t appear to be ill.”

  White curls whipped around the boy’s head. “Well, she is.”

  Finley advanced a step, hand lifted as if to deliver a blow. “She’s not sick. Now get out of there, boy. Before I give you a lesson in minding your elders.”

  The child yelped and backed against the horse. The mare shook her head and pranced in agitation. Preston’s pulse crow-hopped. Finley was going to get the boy trampled. He couldn’t let that happen on his watch. He would never forgive himself. Neither would Miss Talbot.

  He stretched out an arm, stopping the agent. “Let me handle this, Finley. Chasing after the boy is only going to further rile him and the mare. One or both of them are likely to get hurt.”

  “Bah. I’ve already wasted enough time battling with this ragamuffin. I need to get to the reservation.”

  “I sent for the boy’s guardian. She should be here soon.”

  “She’d better be.”

  “She will. Now back away.”

  Finley gave a piggish grunt and backed into the aisle. He stopped and hooked thumbs on the belt circling his ample girth. His beady gaze glowered into the stall. “What the boy needs is a good hide tanning.”

  The person needing the hide tanning was Miss Talbot. She’d definitely be getting an earful for letting yet another child escape her care.

  The child returned Finley’s glare. “You ain’t gonna touch me or Honey, you mean ole hog.”

  “Here now, boy,” Preston cautioned. “There’s no need to be calling names.”

  “My name is Robbie, and he is mean. He beats Honey with a stick when she don’t do like he wants. She has a hard enough time toting his fat behind around as it is.”

  Finley spluttered, his mouth yawing like a toad trapped under a gig pole. Preston stuffed down a laugh. Miss Talbot’s flock certainly didn’t mince words.

  Finley muttered something under his breath as he fished a small red tin out of his breast pocket and unscrewed the lid. Dr. Rumney’s mentholyptus snuff. Expensive stuff. And hard to come by. Odd that an Indian Agent could afford such a luxury. But then he didn’t know a lot about Samuel Finley, other than what he’d observed at his previous post.

  He and Finley had been stationed at Leavenworth at the same time. He’d run across the man during a visit to Madame Reynaud’s. The doves were in a tizzy over Finley’s refusal to pay for services rendered. Finley claimed the service was lacking in enthusiasm and talent. The women contested that he got what he deserved for selecting a young, untrained girl. The man was a cheat and a degenerate and some suspected him of preferring boys. Luckily, Finley seemed more inclined to take this youngster to the woodshed rather than a bedroom.

  “Lieutenant Booth?” a familiar voice called from the stable entrance. “Where are you?”

  It was about time. He leaned into the aisle. “Over here, Miss Talbot.”

  She dashed down the walkway with Private Womack trailing behind her. Worry lined her pretty face. “Where is Robbie? Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine. Or he will be once we get him to come out.”

  She sailed past him and into the stall. Her flowery scent kicked out at him. It was the same perfume that had attacked him the night before when he’d rushed into the jailhouse and found her half-dressed. It had taken all the will-power he possessed to keep from divesting her of the frilly undergarments that did little to conceal the curves beneath. She’d urged him to put his pistol away. If she’d known just how hard his pistol had gotten, she’d have screamed much louder and longer than she had at spotting a spider.

  “Robert Wayne Edmunds.” She hooked hands on her hips. “What in the world are you doing?”

  Desire rifled through him fast and hard. He wanted to be cradling those slender hips, pulling her against him, feeling her flesh pressed against his. He growled under his breath and fisted his sword hilt. These carnal cravings needed taming. Perhaps a trip to the bawdy house in Mineral would put a bridle on them. Oddly, the thought of lying with anyone else made his stomach turn.

  Miss Talbot wagged a finger at the boy. “I sent you to fetch water, young man. Yet here you are when I specifically told you the stables were off limits.”

  The boy’s lower lip quivered. “I went to the well like you said. But there was too many people. I thought I’d visit the horses until the line got shorter.”

  “Well, you’ve had your visit.” She held out a hand. “Come, let’s go.”

  Robbie shook his head. “I can’t. Honey needs me.”

  “Honey? Who is Honey?”

  “It’s what he calls Mr. Finley’s horse.” Preston nodded at the agent. “This is Samuel Finley, agent to the Creek Indians living on the nearby reservation. Finley, this is Miss Talbot, steward of the Seaton House orphanage.”

  Finley tipped his hat. “Miss Talbot.”

  “I’m sorry for all the trouble, Mr. Finley.” She scowled at the boy. “Our children are usually better behaved than this.”

  Preston bit off a grunt. What world was she living in?

  The boy crooked a finger, and she leaned over. Muslin stretched over rounded buttocks, treating him to a most pleasing sight. Too bad he didn’t have time for a cooling dip in Dancer’s Creek. His body would simmer for hours after such a taunting.

  The boy whispered something, and she straightened. “He says the mare is sick.”

  “He already told us that. It’s the reason he refuses to let Mr. Finley take the horse.”

  Finley’s exasperated grunt rang out. “This is going nowhere. Have the boy come out of there this instant or I’ll report this absurdity to Major Allen.”

  Great. Just what he needed…to have his commander involved. Any hint of ineptitude could hold up his request for transfer. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Finley. You’ll have your horse shortly.”

  “No,” the boy wailed. “He can’t take her. Honey will die if he does. Please, Miss Talbot.”

  Miss Talbot cocked her head, her gaze fixed on him like a hawk sighting a rabbit. “Lieutenant Booth, is there anyone knowledgeable in the care of horses that can determine if the mare is indeed sick?”

  “There is, but I don’t see any reason to pull a trooper from his duties on the whim of a child.”

  She thrust up her chin, no less defiant than the boy. “This is not a whim. Robbie and I will remain right here until your man arrives.”

  His skull throbbed behind his eyes, crying for a respite. Unfortunately, there would be no relief until Miss Talbot and her flock vacated the fort and his life. He motioned to the soldier waiting in the aisle. “Private Womack, go to the parade ground and send Sergeant Reese here immediately.”

  “Yes, sir, Lieutenant.” Womack s
wiveled in a squelch of boot leather and raced for the stable entrance. Quick and agreeable. Just like orders should be obeyed.

  Finley paced the aisle, clucking in disapproval. “Such contrariness. Someone ought to take a strap to the both of them.”

  Miss Talbot pulled the boy against her legs. Protective. Like a mother bear with her cub. His gut clenched at the thought of anyone causing either of them pain.

  “There’ll be no flogging, Finley,” he said.

  “Humph.” The agent halted his pacing and poked a beefy finger in the air. “Even the Indians know their place.”

  Miss Talbot speared the agent with a glare. “Like the ones burning down farms and killing people?”

  Touché. She certainly had gumption; he’d give her that. His Irish grandmother would have cheered such boldness.

  Footfalls echoed into the stable, and Sergeant Reese appeared, chest heaving from his hasty sprint. “You…sent for me, Lieutenant?”

  “Have a look at Agent Finley’s mare. See if the animal is healthy enough to ride.”

  Miss Talbot took the boy by the shoulders and herded him to the side of the stall. Reese walked around the horse, examining the mare from head to hoof. The trooper slid a hand over her chest, across her withers, and down her back. The mare didn’t move. He checked her shoulders and barrel. Not a flinch. Yet when he pressed her lower flank, the mare flattened her ears and bobbed her head.

  Reese looked up, his face penciled with concern. “There’s some swelling in her belly, sir. She may have an intestinal cyst, possibly from worms. I wouldn’t recommend riding her until she heals.”

  “Could she die?” Miss Talbot asked.

  “If the cyst ruptures, she could.” At Robbie’s gasp, Sergeant Reese supplied the boy with a reassuring smile. “She’ll be just fine, son. I promise. I’ll mix up a tonic to give her. It might turn her droppings yellow, but she’ll be back to normal in a week or so.”