A Distance Too Grand

by Regina Scott

  Pike stepped aside to let them pass, but not before Meg caught his smirk.

  She’d just agreed to a courtship with the one man she wasn’t sure she should have, in a camp where no one had any expectation of privacy. Perhaps she really was a little mad.

  Ben walked into camp with Meg beside him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if his step held a swagger. The smartest, prettiest, most talented woman he’d ever met had agreed to a courtship. And this time, he wouldn’t give up so quickly.

  Adams had something else on his mind. He approached Ben after they all finished a breakfast of cornmeal mush and Dot’s cinnamon rolls.

  “Would you be willing to say a few words to the troops, sir?” he asked.

  He made it sound as if Ben had a regiment at his command. “Something wrong, Corporal?” Ben asked.

  “Just attempting to maintain morale, sir,” Adams said, chin inching up.

  One of the corporal’s duties was to see to the well-being of the men. If he thought they needed encouragement, Ben should offer it.

  He assembled everyone at the rear of the camp, his back to the canyon, their faces toward it. He wasn’t sure what Adams wanted him to address, but the corporal seemed to have an idea, for he handed Ben the Bible, already open, and pointed to a set of verses.

  “I thought these would be fitting under the circumstances, sir.” He stepped back next to the privates with a stern look to them. Larson and Meadows stiffened their spines.

  Ben glanced at the verses. Interesting choice. What was the corporal trying to achieve? Looking up, he found all gazes on his, ranging from expectant to wary. Ben straightened.

  “Thank you for joining me,” he told them all. “I have before me Philippians two, verses fourteen through sixteen: ‘Do all things without murmurings and disputings: That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world.’”

  He paused to glance around. Meadows and Larson appeared to be listening intently, their gazes latched onto Ben. Hank was nodding along. But Adams, Dot, and Meg were all looking at Pike with narrowed eyes. Had they heard the altercation yesterday over the campsite? Or had Pike been sowing more dissent?

  “‘Holding forth the word of life,’” Ben continued, “‘that I may rejoice in the day of Christ, that I have not run in vain, neither laboured in vain.’”

  “Amen,” Meadows said, then blushed as Adams frowned in his direction.

  Ben closed the Bible, more sure of the purpose of this meeting. “We’ve all been working hard. I can see that, and I appreciate your efforts. I know it feels futile sometimes. It’s easy to get disappointed and irritable.”

  His mind brought up a picture of the Colonel, as if taunting Ben with his own failure. He pushed the vision aside.

  “We haven’t found anything of import yet, but that in itself is telling. We’ve ruled out whole sections of the canyon. And I have high hopes that, in the end, we won’t have labored in vain. Hold on to your faith, hold on to hope. In the end, like the apostle Paul, we can rejoice in having done our all. Dismissed.”

  Adams came to take the Bible from him.

  “Will that settle things, Corporal?” Ben said.

  The skin around the corporal’s brown eyes tightened. “Only time will tell, sir,” he said with a sidelong glance at Pike, who stalked off as if glad to distance himself from them all.

  Ben thanked him and intercepted Meg before she could go prepare more plates.

  “Has Mr. Pike been troubling you?” he asked.

  She looked to where the big man was saddling his horse, while Meadows hovered helpfully nearby. “You know I didn’t much like the way he carried tales to you. Dot mentioned he’d said something to cause a rift between her and Hank as well.”

  “Corporal Adams isn’t much pleased with him either,” Ben told her. “I’ll speak to Pike when he gets back from hunting. The last thing we need is internal strife.”

  “Agreed.” She tucked back a strand of hair before he could reach out and do it, and disappointment tugged at him anew.

  “Dine with me tonight?” he asked.

  She fluttered her lashes. “At such a fine establishment? Why, Captain Coleridge, you honor me.”

  “Only the best for my sweetheart,” he said.

  Her smile faltered only the slightest. “Let’s take that path slowly.”

  He felt shackled, but he didn’t want to push her. “Consider dinner no more than mixing the collodion. Nothing commits you to taking the shot.” With a tip of his hat, he moved away when everything told him to stay.

  He couldn’t stay. He had work to do.

  He set Larson and Meadows to measuring off the grid and asked Meg to assist Hank and Adams with the surveying. With no sign of predators, four-footed or two-footed, he felt comfortable enough letting each work as they willed. As the others went about their tasks, he crouched beside Dot near the fire.

  “Pack me hardtack and water,” he told her. “And if there are any cinnamon rolls left from breakfast, I wouldn’t mind one of them either.”

  Dot’s smile widened. “Coming right up. You heading out on your own?”

  “I just want to make sure we didn’t miss anything important on the way here,” he explained. “I’ll be following the rim back a little way. Send Pike after me if I’m not here by midday break.”

  Dot nodded, then went to gather what he’d requested.

  Food and water in the saddlebag, rifle in its saddle sheath at his thigh, Ben set out, guiding the horse carefully through the trees. The rim was rough and jagged. He had to detour inland a few times for more stable ground. Pike had been wise to counsel them to avoid the area. At least that was to the guide’s credit. If the ground couldn’t support a man on horseback, it would never support a loaded wagon.

  He stopped from time to time, trained his field glass down a draw. He caught no sign of human occupation. If his father had passed this way, he’d left nothing behind. Ben still loathed having to report his lack of progress to Diana and their mother. That the Colonel’s disappearance might have to remain a mystery was a bitter pill.

  Once more he forced himself to focus on his work. That’s what his father would have wanted. He dismounted here and there, always keeping firm hold on the reins in one hand as he bent to examine a plant or rock. Nothing seemed any different from what they’d recorded so far. At least that meant he hadn’t overlooked anything obvious.

  Good thing the canyon was more predictable than Meg.

  He smiled as he remounted. Truth be told, her unpredictability was part of her charm. Like lightning, she flashed through his life, thrilling in her brilliance. Could he truly hold lightning in his arms?

  It was midmorning. He ought to start back. Ahead, the rim bent inward, as if determined to keep its secrets. He had time for one more draw. He clucked to his horse and turned the beast along the edge of the curve.

  This draw was deeper, he saw immediately, cupping a creek that looked strong enough to run all year. It tumbled down the draw, through a field of wildflowers Meg would surely love, past fallen trees, over rocks. The clear water flashed in the sunlight.

  Once more, he dismounted, ground-tying his horse. Crouching, he cupped a handful of the water, which sparkled in his fingers. He took a long drink, feeling as if energy flowed with the water’s clean, bright, cool taste.

  Rising, he stared down the draw. It ran steeply toward the canyon to disappear at another rim below. But it wasn’t as rough as most of the draws they’d passed, and it was certainly wide enough to accommodate a wagon. If that drop could be negotiated . . .

  Frowning, he glanced around. If he could have found this spot, so could Pike. Once again, good grass waved in the breeze all around. The ground was relatively flat; plenty of room to pitch tents. With clear water and a promising approach to the Colorado, why pass it up?

  He wiped the last of the water off his hands and glanced down the creek again
. On Powell’s trip two years ago, the explorer had named several features of the canyon. He’d been particularly impressed with the clarity of the water from a stream entering the canyon about midpoint, calling it Bright Angel Creek. Could this be close to its headwaters?

  He returned to the horse, gathered the reins, and swung up into the saddle. This location was too good to pass up. He’d break camp, relocate here, and spend the next few days following that creek as far as he could. He might just have found the answer to the Army’s quest. They could finish the survey early and return to the fort triumphant.

  And then he’d be free to court Meg and win her heart.

  21

  Meg was the only one who didn’t grumble when Ben returned at the midday rest to announce they were breaking camp. Meadows and Larson, who had spent the morning on the grid, exchanged dismayed glances. Hank fondled the theodolite with a frown, Adams clutched his notes close, and Dot hunkered over the split pea soup she’d already set cooking.

  “You found some place better than this?” Pike scoffed. The guide had recently returned with a brace of quail. “You folks just want to amble all over this land like schoolboys on a holiday. I thought you hired me as a guide, not a nanny.”

  Adams, Larson, and Meadows bristled at that, but Ben merely smiled. “I’m not sure how we missed this spot in passing, but it deserves to be considered. Be ready to mount up in an hour.”

  That made them scramble. Meg had already set up her camera and taken the southern exposure. She pulled out the exposed plate and hurried to prepare it for travel. Three verses of “Amazing Grace” would have to do this time. The shellac was barely dry when she slipped the plate into a frame and cushioned it with the others. Now for the camera itself.

  “Need any help?” Dot asked, bustling past with arms full of dishes.

  “I’m fine,” Meg assured her. She dismounted the camera from the tripod and secured both in the van. She finally packed the stereographic camera and went to strike the tent and gather her and Dot’s belongings.

  The cook met her heading for the mules, arms around another load. “Thank you. It was hard enough figuring how to carry the soup. It would never have survived the jostling in the wagon.” She nodded to where Meadows was rigging a travois with the pot slung between wooden poles, which he appeared to have newly cut and stripped. He’d lashed the lid to the handles with twine to keep it from bouncing off.

  “Good thing that boy likes my cooking,” Dot said with a shake of her head that only made her hair fly more wildly.

  The private glanced up as if he knew they had been talking about him. He looked to Larson, who came to Meg’s side.

  “I hope you don’t mind, Miss Meg,” the more talkative private said, “but we need to use your horse. Stripe is the most reliable, and Corporal Adams says we shouldn’t rebalance the load among the mules so as to spare one for you.”

  Dot nudged Meg with a grin. “You can ride up with me.”

  “It seems I’m well accommodated, Private,” she told Larson, who offered her a grateful smile. “Just be careful with that saddlebag. It has my best plate in it.”

  “We’ll guard it like a babe, ma’am,” he promised. He took it straight to Meadows, who clasped it close, eyes wide, as if he was honored by the trust she’d placed in him.

  It took a full hour, but when Ben called “Mount up!” they were ready.

  Meg would have liked to ride beside him and question him about this sudden change, but that was impossible with her on the bench next to Dot. Even if she’d been riding Stripe, she might not have been able to close the distance. The way was crowded with trees, making it difficult to ride two abreast. And their guide stayed as close to Ben’s side as possible. Every time she caught a glimpse of Pike’s face, his jaw was moving, beard catching the light. And Ben’s face only grew more determined and set.

  Dot must have noticed too, for she glanced at Meg. “I’d give my last cinnamon stick to hear what those two are arguing about.”

  “So would I,” Meg said.

  Whatever the problem, Ben never wavered from his course. It was late afternoon when they came out of the trees to a grassy clearing dotted with wildflowers and creased by a bubbling creek.

  “Why, it’s kind of pretty,” Dot said with a smile.

  It certainly was. As if they thought so too, the mules and horses raised their heads, nostrils twitching. Aspens on one side chattered a welcome in the warm breeze.

  “I approve,” Hank declared, swinging down from the saddle. “Two tents, either side of the stream, fire circle about there.” He pointed to a slight rise to one side of the creek.

  “On it,” Dot said, jumping down from the bench and heading for her pot as Larson came to take charge of her mules.

  Pike shook his head. “Perfect place for predators to meet prey. And you were worried about a brush with a cougar.”

  Meg chilled, but Ben showed no concern. He was on the ground, loosening the cinch on the saddle. “We’ll deal with that problem when we come to it, Mr. Pike. Settle your gear. We should be here a few days at the least.”

  Pike planted his fists on his hips. “I’ve been this way before. There’s a steep drop below—no access to the river. Your settlers’ wagons would never make it up.”

  The others exchanged glances, and Ben turned slowly from his horse. “You’re positive?”

  Pike dropped his hands. “Positive. This site is a waste of time. I could have told you that if you’d taken me with you.”

  She could almost feel the disappointment fall over Ben like a winter coat. “My apologies, Mr. Pike,” he said. “I’ll confirm your findings in the morning. If you’re right, we’ll move on.”

  “No ifs about it,” Pike insisted. “And I’m getting tired of you doubting me.” He stomped off.

  Meg left the tent poles on the mule and went to join Ben. “It’s a promising spot. I can see why you were drawn to it.”

  He glanced down the slope, hands working at the saddle. “Apparently I didn’t plan ahead.”

  Meg shrugged. “My father never planned ahead, and he had a fairly successful life.”

  “He wasn’t an Army engineer,” Ben pointed out, pulling the saddle from his horse.

  No, Papa would never have been happy with rules and regulations. Could she be happy as the wife of an engineer?

  She tried to ignore the thought as she went to set up her tent. The wildflowers whispered to her, promising a vista with the creek and surrounding pines, but she kept glancing at Ben. He worked swiftly and surely to prepare the camp before twilight fell. How would he feel in the morning if Pike proved to be right?

  He looked up from rigging his own tent and met Meg’s eyes. Warmth seeped through her.

  “How much time until dinner, Dot?” he called.

  “Half an hour, give or take,” Dot answered.

  He moved across the camp to Meg’s side. “Care for a stroll before dinner, Miss Pero?” He offered her his arm.

  So formal, but she could see the hope in his eyes. They both needed a little break.

  She put her nose in the air like the brightest West Point belle and draped her hand over his. “Delighted, Captain Coleridge. But don’t make me late for that dinner you promised. I understand the establishment only serves the best people.”

  With Dot grinning at them, they set out.

  The grass brushed her skirts as they moved south along the meadow, following the stream. Ben bent and plucked a tufted red wildflower from the grass and offered it to her. Meg accepted it with a smile.

  “Thank you,” she said. “But this isn’t the first wildflower you brought me, is it? I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

  “You had other things on your mind,” he allowed. “And wildflowers, no matter how pretty, do seem rather small against this backdrop.”

  They had reached the rim, where the land made its first drop into a draw carved by the creek as it tumbled toward the Colorado. Trees clung precariously to the sides, white as bone in place
s where the root systems must have failed. Farther down, the ground disappeared in another drop.

  Ben stood regarding it a moment, then he raised his head. “We might have to use switchbacks in places, but I think we could put in a wagon road just there.” He pointed to the gentler slope on the east side of the draw.

  “What about that next drop?” Meg asked, trying to imagine the route.

  His jaw hardened. “I’m going down tomorrow to find out.”

  Her fingers were itching again as she considered the prospect. “Ought to be quite a view from there, halfway down the canyon.”

  Ben shot her a look. “Are you asking to come with me?”

  “Are you willing to take me?”

  He laughed. “Yes. But think carefully, Meg. It’s possible to fall. Even a little slide could damage your camera.”

  Sometimes that was the price for the pictures she took.

  “I’ve seen it happen,” she told Ben. “All my father thought about was getting the shot. He sprained his ankle multiple times, broke his leg once, landed on his head and knocked himself senseless another. The big camera I’m using is his fourth. I won’t tell you what happened to the first three.”

  He turned to face her, one hand coming up. His fingers brushed her cheek, tender, sweet. “I hope you’ll be more careful.”

  With him looking at her like that, it was hard to disagree.

  “I know,” she said, making herself smile. “I can’t afford to replace that camera right now. But a few good pictures, Ben, and my fortune’s made, at least for a while.”

  Still he continued to regard her, as if she were impossibly precious. Her cheeks were growing warmer in the glow of his regard.

  “If you married,” he ventured, “you wouldn’t have to worry about making your fortune.”

  He said it nonchalantly, but he stood still, as if waiting for her to argue. She should argue. She’d certainly disputed the matter with her aunt and cousin and the well-meaning minister who’d presided over her father’s funeral. Not all husbands were successes. Not all wives lived in the lap of luxury. Look at Dot and Hank. Women had been cooking and sewing and tending the wounded for centuries to make ends meet. But she couldn’t seem to muster her arguments.