Nothing Short of Wondrous

by Regina Scott

  She dropped her gaze to his. He couldn’t speak. She didn’t speak. It would take nothing to swing down from the saddle, climb those steps, gather her in his arms, and press his lips to hers.

  “I completed the circuit, Lieutenant,” Smith said as he reined in beside Will.

  She blinked, as if suddenly finding the sun too bright, and lowered her gaze. “Hello, Private. Caleb and Danny picked apples yesterday. Alberta’s been canning, but she has pies on to bake. You might be in time for a slice. Both of you,” she added without looking at Will.

  Smith didn’t look to Will either, not even for permission. “I’d be delighted to sample the wares, ma’am.” He started for the back of the inn.

  Will ought to reprimand his private, but he was more concerned about Kate. It seemed he’d made her uncomfortable again.

  “I should finish the sweep south,” he said. “Maybe this evening.”

  She nodded, but her smile looked brittle.

  From the east came the most awful sound Will had ever heard. It started as a grunt and ended in a high-pitched scream. Bess shifted under him. He leaped from the saddle, vaulted the stairs, and put himself between Kate and the danger.

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Will . . .”

  “Get inside,” he said. “Bar the door.”

  Her hand pressed against his shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at her. Something silvery danced in her eyes. “Will . . .”

  The scream came again, urgent, demanding. He pulled away from her. “Tell Smith to follow me.”

  “No.” She darted in front of him before he could jump off the steps. “Will, it’s a bull elk. It’s rutting season.”

  He stared at her. “That’s an elk?”

  She nodded, but a giggle escaped. “Really. It’s nothing dangerous, unless you happen to be the other elk he’s challenging.”

  He stared to the east, remembering the animals they’d startled the other day. “I’ve never heard them make that sound.”

  “They only make it this time of year,” she told him, “and only for about a month. We’re halfway through now. I’m surprised we haven’t heard it before.”

  He never wanted to hear it again. “You’re sure no one’s being murdered on the other side of those trees?”

  Her laughter washed the last of his tension away. “Fairly sure. None of my guests are out in that direction, and I doubt anyone from the Fire Hole Hotel came this far just to murder each other. But I thank you for wanting to protect us.”

  He did. All too much. That’s why he excused himself and left.

  He’d never considered himself a coward. His commendations in the past proved he knew how to react to challenges. Why was it the thought of more time with Kate both thrilled and terrified him?

  He went a little way beyond the Geyser Gateway, far enough to spot the elk herd browsing calmly.

  “Let’s hope they stay that way,” he told Bess, who seemed to nod in agreement as they turned and headed north.

  He collected Smith and returned to camp, then spent the next few hours helping Franklin with the cabin. By the time they’d finished, it had four walls, though they reached only six feet high and most of the lumber had been used. If he had to live six months in that, he’d be a hunchback by spring.

  As Franklin went to saddle the horses for the afternoon sweep, Will looked around for Smith. The bushy-faced private was supposed to be inventorying supplies and making a plan for the next few meals, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “Smith!” he shouted. “Report!”

  “Coming!” The voice was faint, as if traveling a great distance.

  Where was he? Will followed Franklin and saddled Bess. His man finally jogged out of the woods to the west of camp. His trousers below the knee were dark and damp, the proud yellow stripe sagging.

  “You were supposed to be working on provisioning,” Will reminded him.

  “Sir,” Smith acknowledged with his slow drawl as he came apace with Will. “I was working on provisioning, fishing to be exact.”

  Will eyed him. “And your trousers were bait?”

  Smith shrugged. “I tumbled in.”

  Will wanted to believe him, but something felt off. “My condolences. Do you have a spare uniform?”

  “I regret the Army didn’t see fit to provide one except what they call a dress uniform, sir.”

  “Hey, Soldier!” Another man ducked out from under the pines. Short and burly, he was surely one of the tourists staying at the Fire Hole Hotel. Will had had to warn him about hunting only yesterday. He was so excited now he didn’t appear to notice Will standing beside Smith or Franklin nearby.

  “You were right,” he said to Smith, round face breaking into a grin. “This was much better than a rod. Those fish are jumping clean through the opening into the net.”

  Smith didn’t look the least abashed at being caught poaching. He straightened to attention. “Permission to retrieve dinner, sir.”

  “Denied,” Will snapped. He raised his voice and stepped out around Bess so the tourist wouldn’t be able to ignore him. “Park rules prohibit fishing by any means but line and hook. Release those fish, or I’m putting you both under arrest.”

  The tourist pointed at Smith. “But he said it would be all right.”

  Franklin shook his head in obvious disbelief that his comrade would be so brazen.

  “Private Smith is mistaken,” Will clipped out. “I suggest you’d be wise to follow my orders instead of his.”

  Smith sidled around Will. “I’ll just release the fish, sir. Come on, Adams.” He grabbed his crony’s arm and tugged him toward the pines and the river beyond. Franklin swung up into the saddle and moved his horse away from the picket line.

  Will gritted his teeth. How was he to protect Yellowstone as he’d promised Kate if he couldn’t even control his own men?

  As if Bess sensed his frustration, she puffed out a sigh.

  Will climbed into the saddle and joined Franklin. Right now, the odds were against them successfully completing their mission over the winter. He already knew one alternative that promised greater success, though he’d have to convince Captain Harris of its wisdom.

  But first he had to convince Kate.

  10

  Mr. Yates, the circuit rider, arrived Saturday evening and begged dinner. Will Prescott did not. Kate tried to tell herself it was all to the good. Will disturbed her, made her reconsider her choices. Besides, he wouldn’t be in her life long. No need to give him any more of her time than necessary.

  But her heart still bounded as happily as an antelope when he knocked at the kitchen door just after breakfast on Sunday.

  She was finishing the dishes so Alberta and the others could attend services when he poked his head in. The cavalry sabers on his hat winked a welcome.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant,” she called. “Here for breakfast? I haven’t turned out the oatmeal yet.”

  He removed his hat as he came fully into the kitchen. “Thank you, ma’am, but I’ve had breakfast. I came to talk to you.”

  She set the dish she’d been rinsing on the towels to dry, but her pulse sped as if she’d run to Old Faithful and back. “Oh? About what?”

  “Supplies and provisions,” he said, and she nearly sighed.

  What was wrong with her? Did she want him to say he was here to court her?

  Yes.

  No!

  “Having trouble in that regard?” she asked aloud.

  “Too much.” He came to join her by the table. “Park rules forbid hunting, as you know. We weren’t issued fishing gear. A man can only take so much salt pork. Yesterday I caught one of my privates fishing, with an improvised net.”

  Kate winced. “I thought better of Private Franklin.”

  “It wasn’t Franklin,” he said. “But it might as well have been. If I’m having this kind of trouble already, I don’t like to think about overwintering in the field. Six men in a ten-by-ten cabin—”

  “For six months,�
�� Kate reminded him.

  He gazed at the ceiling as if begging heaven for help. “Six months of salt pork and hardtack with no windows you can open for light in a space smaller than this kitchen. Someone will break.”

  She could imagine. Toby had rarely survived a day or two before having to get out, sometimes on snowshoes. But he’d had a spacious, warm hotel and Alberta’s cooking waiting on his return.

  “So you’ll need to leave,” she said, wondering why her voice suddenly sounded so leaden.

  “Actually, I’d like to propose to Captain Harris that we stay,” he said, gaze meeting hers. “With you.”

  Kate stared at him. “What?”

  He set his hat on the table and held up both hands. “Hear me out. We’ll be given food for the winter.”

  “Salt pork and hardtack,” she repeated, unable to keep the revulsion from her voice.

  “I’m sure Alberta could make even that taste good. Better than anything we’d try. My point was that we might not be as much of a drain on your resources as you might think.”

  Kate put her hands on her hips. “You forget. I’ve seen how your men eat. You’d clean me out in a month.”

  “Then we’ll help you put up more,” he said, lowering his hands so cautiously she might have had her rifle trained on him. “The inn will be empty of guests—you said so yourself. We could stay in the rooms.”

  “Which have no method of heating,” she informed him.

  “Two men to a room ought to heat it enough to get by,” he said, and she knew he was right. They could keep the place warm enough just to bundle up for sleeping, then spend the days in the heated salon.

  “We’d still patrol when we could to prevent hunters from taking advantage of the quiet times,” he continued as if he could see her resolve weakening. “We’d help with food preparation, cleaning, wood chopping, any indoor maintenance, the care and feeding of the stock.”

  “The stock.” Kate seized on the word. “You’d have to put your horses in the barn. I didn’t plan on that much feed.”

  “The Army always feeds its horses, Kate,” he said, “sometimes better than its men. With your permission, I’d also like to propose to Captain Harris that he pay you a stipend to house us and them. It wouldn’t be much, perhaps three dollars a month per man and his mount. But we might survive the winter, and you might come out ahead.”

  Kate calculated quickly. Six men, a minimum of five months. Oh, what she could do with the extra ninety dollars. Add an extra horse for trail rides. Oh, or build a gazebo on the front yard for picnics. And all the things on her list of improvements and maintenance inside—six men for five months even a few hours a day would make such a difference!

  She raised her chin. “Offer your proposal to Captain Harris, then. I’m willing if he is.”

  That smile. It lit his face. It lit the room. It lit a candle inside her.

  “Thank you, Kate,” he said. “I’ll ride for Mammoth Hot Springs today. I’ll report back as soon as I’ve returned.”

  Beyond the kitchen door, voices rose in song. He nodded in that direction. “You should go.”

  She should. When the dishes were done. She caught his hand. “Come with me.”

  The smile softened, brushed her like spring rain. “Maybe next week.”

  Kate nodded and forced herself to release him. Putting on his hat, he turned and left.

  The room felt darker, colder. Melancholy slipped over her as easily as his hat had slipped onto his head. Enough of that! She had no intention of becoming one of those maudlin females who sat, day in and day out, face to the window, pining for a fellow. Will Prescott wasn’t even her fellow!

  He could be.

  She snorted and went to finish the dishes.

  But the voices on the other side of the door called to her, and she heard an echo inside. Maybe she should attend services for once, see what Mr. Yates was telling her guests. She was responsible for allowing him to preach. Her guests would associate him with the Geyser Gateway.

  She set another dish on the towel and dried her hands on the apron around her waist. Maybe just a peek. She ventured to the door, but the voices had quieted until she heard only one: Mr. Yates, starting his sermon. Surely she shouldn’t interrupt now.

  Her hands disagreed with her, for they were already working at untying the apron and pulling it off her navy skirts. She stiffened her spine to keep from walking through the door.

  You must be even busier than I am, Lord. You don’t need my worship.

  But she needed to worship. She could feel it.

  She bowed her head. Lord, I thought I was worshiping you every day, through my work, by keeping your creation safe. But I feel as if you’re calling me to more. What more can I give?

  Something clinked behind her. She turned to find one dish precariously close to the edge of the table. Maybe that was her answer. Work was her balm, her calm. Something she could control.

  She went back to the dishes. Maybe she could work a little faster next week and be ready in time for services. The decision did not bring the peace she expected.

  Still, she had everything washed by the time the others came through the door after Mr. Yates had finished preaching.

  “We missed you,” Alberta said, starting to help her put away the last of the dishes.

  “Maybe next week,” Kate said, remembering Will’s promise. “So much to do.”

  Alberta glanced around the kitchen, and her broad shoulders slumped. “There is that. I best start on Sunday dinner.”

  Sarah tossed her head. “Not me. I’m packing. I’ll be leaving Wednesday. Elijah said he’d have room for me on that run.”

  Ida sighed. “Me too.”

  Once again, sadness tugged at Kate, but this reason made more sense to her. The season was drawing to a close. Her guests would dwindle even further in the coming days. Caleb would leave at the end of the month, and she and Danny would have to add taking care of the animals to their tasks.

  Unless Captain Harris agreed to Will’s proposal.

  She made herself smile. “We’ve been pleased to have you both,” she told Sarah and Ida. “I’ll write when we’re ready to start up in the spring.” She turned to Alberta. “How much roast beef is left from yesterday’s dinner?”

  “A goodly amount,” Alberta allowed. “I thought I’d start a stew.” She moved slowly toward her apron hanging on a hook by the back door.

  When had Alberta’s hair lost its gleam, her step its vitality? Had Kate pushed even her cook beyond her abilities? She shook her head and went to intercept her, taking the apron from her grip.

  Alberta looked at her askance.

  “Roast beef sandwiches tonight,” Kate told her. “The bread’s already sliced, and it won’t take much to slice the beef. We’ll open some of the apple preserves. And there’s still pie for dessert. That should allow you a few hours off.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Tremaine!” Alberta clasped her hands before her chest, eyes tearing. “What I wouldn’t give for a walk in God’s beauty. I hope this means you and Danny get time off too.”

  Kate glanced back to find Danny watching her. He fairly vibrated with hope.

  “We will,” Kate promised. “How about we visit our special spot, Danny?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Danny said, and he saluted her.

  That only reminded her of Will again. Maybe someday, before winter set in, she’d be comfortable sharing the secret with him. For now, she was merely glad for time with her son.

  In the one place she had always found her heavenly Father there before her.

  The sight of the Geyser Gateway never failed to raise Will’s spirits, especially that Monday afternoon. Part of his reaction stemmed from his meeting with Captain Harris the previous day.

  After a quick sweep of their area, he had taken Franklin and Smith north with him to Camp Sheridan at Mammoth Hot Springs. Captain Harris and the men he’d kept with him were making more progress than Will and his men. Already they’d constructed a T-shape
d barracks and stable, both board and batten covered in a wash of lime and lamp blacking. Work had commenced on a storehouse, a guardhouse, a quartermaster’s stable, and a hospital. But then again, they had a sawmill and twice the men he did.

  Or at least twice the men on a typical day. As it was, only Captain Harris; his adjutant, First Lieutenant Herbert Tutherly; and two privates were left in the cantonment. The rest were still fighting the fire.

  “Though we hear it is nearly contained,” Will’s commanding officer told him when he reported in. “And I appreciate your warning about the possibility of fire being used to drive animals beyond the park boundary. We’ll be on the lookout for that.”

  For as long as Will had known the captain, Harris had kept his sandy hair short and mustache trimmed. Even now, he was better groomed than many of his men, his uniform clean and pressed, the brass buttons gleaming. His eyes gleamed nearly as bright as Will laid out his plan while standing on either side of the planks and sawhorses Harris was using as a desk.

  “Excellent,” the captain proclaimed when Will finished. “That will allow us to concentrate our lumber resources on the other detachments. I’ll make sure to send the wintering supplies and hay to the Geyser Gateway. You’re certain Mrs. Tremaine is amenable?”

  “Mrs. Tremaine and her staff have done all they can to aid us, sir,” Will assured him. “She wants Yellowstone protected as much as we do.”

  Captain Harris nodded. “Then, by all means, proceed.”

  Will saluted. As he lowered his arm, he met his commanding officer’s gaze. “Permission for me and my privates to visit Gardiner, sir?”

  Harris’s eyes narrowed. “For what purpose?”

  The closest town to the northern entrance, Gardiner had a reputation for wildness. The population stood at less than five hundred, but the town boasted more than a dozen saloons. Harris wasn’t keen on his men visiting any of them.

  “Mrs. Tremaine’s son, Danny, has shown a potential aptitude for baseball,” Will explained. “I was hoping one of the mercantiles might have a ball and bat for purchase.”

  Harris’s face relaxed. “Permission granted. Just see that Private Smith stays away from the gaming tables. The miners and ranchers won’t appreciate his style of play.”