by Regina Scott
It was all too easy to begin thinking of the fort as home, partly because Diana went out of her way to befriend Meg. Ben’s sister was bright and bubbly. She was a great favorite among the officers, many of whom appeared to be smitten. A pair always seemed to be out practicing saber drills, muscles flexing and swords clashing, whenever Meg and Diana crossed the parade ground. Others insisted on accompanying them whenever they strolled beyond the confines of the fort, even so near as Laundress Lane. Meg enlisted the aid of Corporal Adams, whose dour looks deterred all but the boldest. The clerk had come into his own after their adventures and was unafraid to state his opinion or hold his ground. Rumor had it he was about to be promoted to sergeant.
With all the attention being paid to Diana, the colonel was besieged by requests to dine with her and Meg at his table. The flowery compliments and longing looks would have melted many a heart.
Diana was kind but firm about refusing their attentions.
“I’m not marrying a cavalry officer,” she told Meg. “I’ve had my fill of this life. I want a husband who stays put.”
“I’ve never known a man who stayed put,” Meg said with a laugh.
“Then you accept their offers,” Diana said, linking arms with her.
Only one offer appealed to her. She could not stop thinking about it. She’d turned Ben away twice. God cared enough to offer her this new chance at life. If Ben asked a third time, she knew what her answer would be.
Given the way she and Diana appeared to be disturbing the activities of the fort, Meg wasn’t surprised when Colonel Yearling called her into his office on the fifth day. The room was as regimented as the commanding officer, everything lined up in orderly fashion. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the pens were required to salute him. He greeted her and waved her into one of the chairs across from his desk.
“I find myself in a difficult position, Miss Pero,” he said, pacing back and forth across the planks while Adams stood on duty behind him. “You have done outstanding work, despite impossible circumstances. Yet I have an obligation to keep order.”
“I can remain in my quarters if that would help,” Meg offered. “It should only be a little longer. Dot and Hank won’t mind.”
“I fear keeping to quarters may not be enough to satisfy the legalities.” He waved to the papers on his desk. “I’ve just received a warrant for your arrest.”
Adams started. Meg pushed to her feet. “Arrest? For what?”
Colonel Yearling met her gaze. “Theft, Miss Pero. It seems you made off with your cousin’s photographic equipment.”
Cold and heat flushed up her in turn. “It wasn’t his,” Meg insisted. “My father left it to me.”
The colonel’s look was commiserating. “I’d like to believe you, but I must act on the information I’ve been given. There are regulations, you know. Be assured I will telegraph for more details.”
Meg nodded, feeling numb. What details could he get? Only more of Cousin Harold’s lies.
“In the meantime,” Colonel Yearling continued, taking a seat behind his desk as if prepared to dismiss her, “I have no choice but to put you under arrest.” Colonel Yearling glanced over at Adams, who looked as shocked as she felt. “Corporal, escort Miss Pero to the guardhouse and make her as comfortable as you can.”
Adams stepped forward. “Yes, sir. Should I then return and help you deal with Mrs. Newcomb and Mrs. Wilkins?”
Colonel Yearling frowned at him. “Do they have an appointment today?”
“No, sir,” Adams replied, face neutral. “But I’ve no doubt they’ll show up anyway. Miss Pero is something of a favorite. And you know how Mrs. Newcomb can be.”
The darling! He was arguing far more effectively than she ever could. Meg kept her gaze down and her thoughts to herself. Perhaps that was why she noticed the colonel carefully rearranging his steel-point pens.
“Yes, well,” he said, pausing to clear his throat. “Perhaps we can keep the matter quiet.”
“Of course, sir,” Adams said. “Perhaps Mrs. Newcomb won’t notice when Miss Pero doesn’t report for dinner.”
Colonel Yearling stood, forcing her gaze up with him. He tugged down on his navy frock coat. “I’ll have you know there are regulations, Corporal.”
“I am well versed in Army regulations, sir,” Adams countered. “Would you like me to look up the one that says young ladies must be confined in the guardhouse while awaiting news? I don’t recall seeing it, but it must be there somewhere if the colonel has retreated to it twice now.”
“Retreated?” Colonel Yearling raised his head, mustache bristling. “An Army officer never retreats. I know there’s a regulation.”
“Very likely,” Corporal Adams drawled, but his gaze went past the colonel as if seeing something else entirely.
Meg held her breath as the colonel frowned at her. His left eye twitched once, twice. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Confine her to quarters. But I’ll have no nonsense from Mrs. Newcomb or Mrs. Wilkins, or I’ll lock up the whole lot of you.”
30
Ben and his men caught up with Pike a few days later. The guide tried to outrun them across a craggy plateau dotted with orange and white knobs of sandstone, like pillars rising from the sage. But there was nothing quite like a cavalry charge, hooves pounding and sabers flashing, to make a man consider his likelihood of success. In the middle of it for the first time, Ben began to see why his father had refused promotion.
Pike clamped his mouth shut when Ben leveled the charges against him, eyes straight ahead and shoulders back. He never acknowledged his role or his avarice, even when Private Larson called him a polecat.
“You won’t let him get away with it, will you, Captain?” the private asked as two of the other cavalrymen tied Pike’s hands.
“Colonel Yearling may be able to learn the truth,” Ben told him.
Ben was bone weary as he rode back to Fort Wilverton. He’d survived wildfire, thirst, and hunger; captured the man most likely responsible for the murder of his father and the attempted murder of the men and women under his command. He and Larson ought to feel vindicated, jubilated.
All he could think about was Meg.
Had she kept her promise and stayed at the fort? Would she listen to his pleas? How could he convince her he loved her and wanted only the best for her?
Colonel Yearling ordered him to report as soon as he returned. Two of the cavalrymen brought Pike in, arms confined behind his back. The commanding officer shook his head in disgust.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself, man?” Yearling demanded. “You are accused of deserting your duty, attempting murder, and murdering an officer.”
Pike’s mouth curled in a sneer above his beard. “You can’t prove anything.”
Yearling stroked his mustache. “Perhaps not, but the case against you is credible. And what’s this I hear about a gold claim?”
Ben held back a groan even as the two cavalrymen exchanged glances. This rumor was what his father had tried to quell. He’d died protecting Fort Wilverton and the Grand Canyon from becoming another Sutter’s Mill.
“There is no gold,” he said before Pike could answer. “I tested the samples myself.”
“Liar!” Pike surged forward, and the two horse soldiers had to hold him back. “You want it for yourself, just like your father. I stopped him, and I stopped McCoy when he started to break. He couldn’t handle not knowing what you were doing. He kept sneaking around, looking for a piece of spur your father had lost, breaking into camp, fussing with little miss’s plates. He wouldn’t leave well enough alone. Well, he’s gone, and that gold is mine.”
Colonel Yearling stepped back from Pike’s panting. “Take him to the guardhouse.”
The cavalrymen dragged Pike out of the room.
Colonel Yearling shook his head. “Mad. Utterly mad. You’ve handed me quite a problem, Captain.”
Ben refused to back down. “There is no gold, sir. I’d stake my life on it.”
; “It appears you already have,” Yearling said. “And I’ll take your word on the matter of the gold. The fellow is clearly guilty as charged, as was McCoy. Pike will stay in the guardhouse until I can turn him over to the civil authorities. I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t have to put Miss Pero in with him.”
He could not follow the man’s logic. “Miss Pero? Why would you lodge her in the guardhouse?”
“I received a warrant for her arrest while you were gone.”
Her arrest? His jaw felt so tight he could scarcely open his mouth. “Who,” he gritted out, “would prefer charges against Miss Pero?”
“A Mr. Harold Finch,” the colonel said with some distaste. “She tells me he’s her cousin, interested in claiming her cameras as his own. I telegraphed for details and to tell the fellow the cameras were lost in a fire. Impudent cur demanded payment in lieu. Unfortunately, Miss Pero hasn’t enough to pay the fee.”
Ben leaned forward. “But if he’s paid, he’ll withdraw the charge?”
“So I understand.”
Ben straightened. “Then I have a proposal to make.”
Meg sat at the table in Dot’s cottage, Mrs. Wilkins on one side, Diana on the other, and Dot busy getting a stew going on the hearth across from them. It had been like this for the last few days. One of her new friends had been at her side, encouraging, from midmorning until past dinner. Dot was in her element cooking for them all.
Ben’s sister visited every morning and afternoon. They played checkers, having borrowed the board with its red and green squares and round wooden pieces from Corporal Adams. They also traded stories about their childhoods. Meg loved hearing about how Ben had constructed elaborate sandcastles with interconnecting roads and bridges one summer when the Colonel had been stationed near the shore. It seemed he’d liked building things from an early age.
Diana had even raised the question about West Point.
“You’re the one, aren’t you?” she asked as they were playing checkers one day. “The woman who broke Ben’s heart.” Dot, who had been rolling out the crust for a dried apple pie on the other end of the table, had looked up in obvious surprise.
“I never intended to hurt him,” she told them both, guilt tugging. “I thought breaking things off was the best for everyone. After all, it became clear to me that we never would have suited then.”
Diana frowned. “Why not? You were both bright and eager. He thought the world of you. He wouldn’t have brought you home otherwise.”
Meg shook her head. “I imagine he brought a number of girls home.”
Diana jumped one of Meg’s pieces and neatly removed it from the board. “No. Only you.”
“You see?” Dot crowed, waving her rolling pin. “I told you he favored you.”
Meg smiled. “So it seems. Even if I’ll never be a society belle.”
Diana wrinkled her nose. “No one needs a society belle out here. If there was a battle, we could be nurses. If there were children here, we could start a school. Where would this fort be with no laundresses, no lady sutler running the trading post? Why, how would Ben’s expedition have gotten by without a cook or photographer?”
“That’s right,” Dot said, smacking her rolling pin against the table and setting the checkers to bouncing.
“I wish everyone thought like you two,” Meg said, righting her pieces.
“I imagine more ladies think like we do these days,” Diana said.
“Even your mother?” Meg couldn’t help asking.
Diana glanced up from setting her pieces back into place. “So that’s what’s worrying you.” She reached across the game and touched Meg’s hand, then winked at her. “You leave that to me.”
Meg wasn’t sure what to expect from that promise, but the very next day, Mrs. Coleridge had come to see her. Dressed in a burgundy silk gown with golden panels down the bodice and hem, she glanced around at the little cottage, and her upper lip curled. Dot stiffened.
“It is absolutely disgraceful that you must be locked up indoors,” Ben’s mother said, chin high. “It is very kind of you to play hostess, Mrs. Newcomb, but I cannot help but feel the imposition on you.”
Dot thawed just the slightest, drying her hands on her apron. “I like company, normally.”
Meg hid a smile. Mrs. Coleridge missed the hidden jab. “I told Colonel Yearling that you must be released at once, Miss Pero, but he refused.”
Meg rallied. “He’s only doing his duty.”
Mrs. Coleridge fiddled with the cream-colored lace at her bell-shaped sleeves. “I understand about doing one’s duty. A mother has a duty to ensure her son grows into a man who takes responsibility for his actions, who puts others before himself.”
Dot nodded. “That’s the Captain, all right.”
She dropped her hand. “That is my son. I have always been proud of him. But I saw how the young ladies looked at him at West Point. They heard the Coleridge name and thought they could align themselves with it for no more than a pretty smile.”
Meg raised her chin. “That’s not me.”
Mrs. Coleridge looked up at last, eyes soft. “No, dear, it isn’t. I must offer you an apology. When Benjamin brought you home, I didn’t see beyond your beauty. I thought you were just another one of those girls who wanted nothing but to marry well. You are so much more than that.”
Why did these tears keep coming? “I try to be.”
Mrs. Coleridge nodded to Dot, who was watching avidly. “I’ve had the pleasure of talking with Mrs. Newcomb, Corporal Adams, and that sweet Private Meadows. They can say nothing but good things about you. And your work speaks for itself. You are obviously a woman of character and talent. Please forgive me for thinking anything less of you.”
“Of course.” Meg had to look away to gain control of her emotions. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It’s plain the Captain still cares for you. I hope nothing I’ve done made you think less of him.”
Meg drew in a breath. “Never. I admire Ben so much.” She dared to look at Ben’s mother again. Mrs. Coleridge was smiling at her.
“And I believe he admires you as well.” As if suddenly aware of herself, she adjusted her sleeves. “I should go. I will continue speaking to Colonel Yearling on your behalf.” She sniffed. “You would never have been confined to quarters if the Colonel was still alive.”
The sniff became something more, and she’d had to excuse herself. Meg could scarcely believe it. She’d thought only a society girl would suit Mrs. Coleridge, when all the while Mrs. Coleridge had been hoping for more for Ben.
Someone who loved him, would encourage him. Someone who only wanted the best for him. That was a woman Meg could be.
Now Mrs. Wilkins set down the green wool she was sewing for Meg. “I don’t remember a call to arms. Why do I hear running feet?”
Meg heard it too, footsteps pounding closer. Dot raised her wooden spoon as if prepared to defend them all.
Someone rapped on the door. “Meg Pero! Come out.”
She knew that voice. Meg rose, trembling. Diana was grinning at her. So was Dot.
Mrs. Wilkins folded up her work. “Well?” she challenged. “What are you waiting for?”
Meg hurried to the door and threw it open. Ben stood on the stoop, hat gone and hair wild. The rough navy wool of his day uniform made his shoulders appear broader, and the sky-blue trousers made his legs seem longer.
“Oh Ben,” she cried, “I’m so glad you’re back safe. Did you catch him?”
He grinned as broadly as his sister. “We did. And I’ve come to ask you to take a walk with me.”
Her spirits soared even higher. “You convinced Colonel Yearling to let me leave my quarters for a little while?”
“Nope.” He stepped aside as if to give her room to run. “You’re free to go. All charges dropped.”
Meg stared at him. “Cousin Harold agreed to let me off?”
“For a consideration.”
“For a bribe, you mean.” Indignatio
n marched out of the house with her. “I’ll pay you back, Ben. I promise.”
“No need.” He waved to his sister, Mrs. Wilkins, and Dot before shutting the door behind her. Meg paused to take a deep breath of the warm air, let the sun bathe her face.
Thank you, Lord. Now, show me the path forward. I know I can trust in you.
Ben put a hand on her arm, and she turned to face him. Tension sat on his shoulders, as if he had one more task to undertake before he could rest.
“You’re a free woman,” he said, “able to go anywhere, do anything you want. What can I do to convince you that you want to be with me most of all?”
Meg gazed into his dear face. Those blue-gray eyes, that long nose, the lips that could warm her with the merest touch, the capable hands that held her heart so gently. “It wouldn’t take much.”
His eyes lit. “So, what if I promise to carry your equipment, mix the collodion, polish the lenses?”
Those were the little jobs she’d done for her father. He was offering to perform the lowliest work, if that would please her. She swallowed. “That’s very kind of you, but I can do all that.”
He arched a brow. “What if I recommend you highly to the Army for future work?”
“Colonel Yearling would likely do the same, now that I’m cleared of all charges, of course.”
He blew out a breath in obvious frustration. “Found you the perfect horse? Built you a house overlooking the sea?”
“Diana might appreciate the horse more, and your mother might like the house. You and I will be too busy exploring.”
He searched her face. “What are you saying?”
What she should have said five years ago but hadn’t had the courage. She’d changed. He’d changed. Together, they would only be stronger.
Meg went down on one knee, heedless of the soldiers moving around the parade, taking the cavalry horses to the stables, carrying messages between commands. Mrs. Coleridge must have heard the troop ride in. Was she watching even now? Dot, Diana, and Mrs. Wilkins were staring out the window. She ignored them all.
“Captain Ben Coleridge,” she said, voice as firm as her convictions, “I love you. You are wise and brave and kind, and being with you I can be my very best. Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife. Will you marry me?”
