Nothing Short of Wondrous

by Regina Scott

  Will knew better than to question his superior. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t question Smith as soon as he left the blockhouse Harris was using as a command post. He found both his privates lounging in armchairs on the long porch of the big National Hotel, feet out and heads back. Only Franklin jumped to attention as Will approached.

  “We’ve been given permission to ride to Gardiner,” he told them. “Franklin, see to the mounts. Smith, a word.”

  Franklin ducked his head and hurried past Will. Smith slowly climbed to his feet. “Lieutenant?”

  “I have been advised to keep you away from the gaming tables,” Will told him. “Why would that be?”

  Smith spread his hands. “Other men have limited vision?”

  “Or more vision than I do,” Will allowed. “Is there something I should know, Private?”

  “A great many things, I’m sure,” Smith had drawled. “But you needn’t worry about me. I have no interest in coming near a card table again.” He had stretched like a cat awakening from a nap. “The Army is my life now.”

  Somehow, Will had doubted that.

  But he couldn’t doubt how eager he was to reach the inn now. He tried to tell himself he was looking forward to seeing how Danny liked his present, the leather-bound ball and ash bat he’d found in Gardiner. But he knew the real reason.

  Kate.

  Even the scream of the elk in the hills to the east didn’t slow him.

  “Do you expect trouble at the inn?” Smith asked beside him as if he noticed the swift pace.

  “No,” Will said. “Check the geysers. I need a word with Mrs. Tremaine.”

  “Of course you do.”

  Will refused to dignify the comment with a response.

  Leaving Danny’s present in his saddlebag, he hitched Bess and ventured into the Geyser Gateway. Kate’s youngest maid, the one with the bouncy blonde curls, pointed him through the kitchen to the rear yard, where he found Kate, Danny, Alberta, and two older women gathered in a circle. Kate looked up, then grinned as he approached, and he hurried his steps.

  “Just the man for the job,” she declared. “Mrs. Pettijohn, Miss Pringle, this is Lieutenant Prescott, head of the cavalry detachment assigned to our area of the park. Lieutenant, meet my newest guests. They’re sisters from West Virginia. They’ll be staying with us for the next week or so.”

  Will removed his hat. “Ladies.”

  Two pairs of button brown eyes regarded him from wrinkled, powdered faces. Their hair was white and crimped into curls that were fading in the warm, dry air.

  “Are you mechanically inclined?” the taller lady inquired, both chins pointing in his direction as she stiffened in her tailored, violet-colored gown.

  “Sufficiently muscled?” the shorter lady asked, gaze traveling from his boots to his face as her tiny hands smoothed the ruffles and ribbons on her lavender skirts.

  Will looked to Kate. “Is there a problem?”

  Her grin widened, and she stepped aside to wave at the contraption in the center of their circle. “We have all the ingredients for ice cream, but we can’t get the crank to turn, even with Caleb’s help.”

  “Ice cream is really nice on a warm day,” Danny said wistfully.

  “I’m your man,” Will said. He dropped his hat onto Danny’s head, where it tilted over the boy’s eyes, then crouched beside the wooden bucket with its iron yoke across the top. The metal canister inside was surrounded by chunks of ice, salt sparkling on the flat edges.

  “Where’d you get ice?” he asked, giving the bucket a shake to break any blockages.

  “We brought it with us from Virginia City,” the taller lady—Mrs. Pettijohn?—informed him.

  “We brought many things with us,” her sister—Miss Pringle?—added.

  Will settled the bucket between his knees and seized the handle. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  He could feel their expectations as he cranked the handle to turn the canister. It stuck at first, and Mrs. Pettijohn tutted. Danny sighed, shoving the hat back on his head. Will glanced up to see Kate’s smile. He tightened his grip and rocked the handle back and forth. He knew the moment the ice jam broke, for the chunks rattled against the wood. He started cranking to Danny’s cheer.

  Twenty minutes later, his arm was tiring, but he refused to let them see it. He switched arms as Alberta went to the kitchen. She returned with bowls and spoons as if sure of his success. Kate put her hand on his shoulder as if to offer to take over. The touch only encouraged him to keep going.

  Danny leaned over the churn. “Maybe we should check it.”

  Will stopped, more grateful than he was willing to admit. “Good idea.”

  Danny’s fingers trembled as Will tilted the yoke, but the boy opened the canister lid and looked inside. Then his head came up, and he beamed at Will. “Ice cream!”

  “I’ll take it from here,” Alberta said, and she lifted the canister dripping from the ice and carried it to a wooden bench where her bowls waited. Danny and the older women followed.

  Will climbed to his feet.

  “Another fine rescue by the cavalry,” Kate said.

  Will inclined his head. “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”

  “I’m very grateful. Danny would have been so disappointed if we couldn’t get it to work.”

  Will shook out his arms. “Glad to be of assistance. I was coming this way in any regard. I talked with Captain Harris. He accepted your kind offer.”

  She squeezed her shoulders up as if she were as excited as her son. “Oh, wonderful! Then you’ll be with us all winter.”

  The prospect of overwintering in Yellowstone had never delighted him, until now. “I will. That is, we all will.”

  “I’m so glad.” Her eyes glowed. That smile pulled him closer. He bent his head. She moved to meet him.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Kate’s head snapped up.

  “Gunfire,” Will said, gut dropping.

  She met his gaze. “Poachers.”

  11

  Alberta, Danny, and Kate’s guests were so busy eating they didn’t seem to notice, but the thought of a poacher so close made Kate’s stomach bunch. Will started around the hotel, and she ran to pace him. “I’m coming with you.”

  He pulled up short. “Too dangerous.”

  “I’ve faced poachers before,” she informed him. “The greater danger is you or your men riding into a hot pool. Let me guide you.”

  She thought he would refuse. His face was set and his eyes dark. But he snapped a nod. “You have ten minutes to change and mount. Can you do that?”

  She whirled. “Danny—tell Caleb to saddle me a horse. Run!”

  It was to her son’s credit that he didn’t argue. He shoved a dripping spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and sped for the barn. Kate ran for the inn, shouting instructions to Alberta as she went.

  “I’m helping Lieutenant Prescott. Take care of Danny and the others while I’m gone.”

  She flashed past her startled cook and guests into the inn.

  Nine and a half minutes later, according to the pocket watch Toby had seldom consulted, she was standing beside her horse in front of the hotel, Will on the ground beside her and Private Smith mounted. Mrs. Pettijohn and Miss Pringle were seated on the veranda benches, a second helping of ice cream in their bowls, watching avidly, as if they’d come to listen to a band play in the city park. Alberta and Danny stood in the doorway, her hands braced on his thin shoulders.

  Will braced his hands on Kate’s waist. “You sure about this?”

  “Yes,” she said. “If you’d be so kind.”

  He lifted her easily and set her on the sidesaddle. Kate adjusted her position and skirts, ordering her heart to slow as he stepped back.

  “Have you heard any more shots?” she asked as he mounted.

  “No,” he admitted, gathering the reins. “And I can’t even tell you which direction they came from.”

  “We have three good grazing areas for game animals ne
ar us,” Kate said, turning Aster away from the hotel. “Across Tangled Creek and around that hill; to the northwest across the Firehole; and to the north, closer to your camp. I suggest we start with the nearest first.”

  He nodded, and she urged her mount forward to start around the geyser field.

  “I took the liberty of asking Caleb to ride to the Fire Hole and tell Franklin the situation,” Will said as they cantered across the dry, bleached soil. “He looked scared to death.”

  “He’s just shy,” Kate said, leading them west toward the banks of Tangled Creek. “He and his parents toured the park a couple years ago, and he loved the area so much they asked Toby if he’d consider taking him on as help. He’s been a blessing with the animals.”

  Conversation dropped off as they splashed through the creek’s warm waters and followed the curve of the pine-covered hill into the meadows beyond. Antelope raised their heads from the grass to stare a moment before bounding away.

  “Not here,” Kate said. “If there had been gunfire, those antelope wouldn’t have waited until the second shot to bolt.”

  “Agreed,” Will said, and he and Private Smith followed her up the banks of the creek to their next site.

  Every moment felt too long, every yard too slow. True to its name, Tangled Creek trickled out in a wide fan to the Firehole River, creating a ford shallow enough for horses to cross. But the meadow on the other side was also empty of disturbance. The last of the season butterflies flitted over clumps of aster, their yellow wings bright against the blue.

  “Not here either,” Will said, turning his face and his horse away from the bucolic scene.

  Private Smith sighed.

  Kate’s tension was too high to allow her a sigh. Perhaps they’d been mistaken. Perhaps the sound hadn’t been gunfire. She wanted to hope as she led them back across the river and to the northeast. But she felt as if something rode on her shoulder, weighing her down. The tight line of Will’s body told her he felt the same way.

  They trotted out of a patch of chalk soil onto the meadows. Veined with tiny streams, the prairie stretched for acres until it reached the circuit road. She ought to have been able to spot a man standing, certainly a herd of any size.

  She reined in. Will pulled up on one side, Private Smith on the other. The private’s dark brown gaze roamed across the waving grass.

  “Peaceful,” he murmured, as if determined not to break the calm.

  It was too calm. No birds sang. Nothing moved except the grass. Yellowstone seemed to be holding its breath. Kate held hers as well.

  She craned her neck to see as far as she could, then let out her breath. There. That dark lump near the far side of the grassland. A lone bison, perhaps? Had it escaped the poacher?

  “Careful,” she said, relaxing back onto the saddle. “Head east, and watch for holes. One wrong step, and you’ll lame your horse.”

  They picked their way across the grass, Kate’s senses alert to any oddity. The lump didn’t move as they approached. They were still a good twenty feet away when she realized why.

  She reined in again, stomach roiling.

  Private Smith frowned as he and Will joined her. “What is that?”

  Kate swallowed her bile. “That’s what’s left after a poacher took the best parts of a bison. No head, no skin, no hooves, no tail.”

  Smith covered his nose with one hand and looked away.

  Will’s face hardened. “That means it’s someone who knows what such things bring at market,” he said, voice grim. “The flies are just beginning to swarm. We can’t have missed him by much.”

  Kate looked away as well. “The easiest escape from the park from here would be the west entrance.”

  “Unless he wants more,” Will said. He glanced around the meadow, then nodded to his man. “Check the ground around the kill. See if you can find any sign of a trail.”

  Smith eyed him. “You assume I have any skill in that area.”

  “Now, Private,” Will barked.

  Smith swung down and circled the kill.

  Will put a hand on Kate’s arm. “We’ll catch who did this.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. The loss of the bison pressed down on her, making breath difficult. So few left. Would they pass from this earth before Danny was grown?

  “That way.” Smith rose and pointed toward the north. “Even I can see the blood trail.” At a look from Will, he remounted, and they headed in that direction.

  Pines edged the prairie, and Kate wasn’t sure whether the needles littering the ground would mask the trail. But drops of blood on shrub and rock made it easy to follow the direction their poacher had gone, until they reached a bend in the Firehole River. The trail ended at the near bank. Here the river was narrower, rockier, the waters desperate to run.

  Will’s eyes narrowed, but not at the rushing waters white with foam, Kate thought.

  “You know who it is,” she guessed.

  “I imagine all poachers leave a trail of blood from their prey,” he said, but his gaze remained watchful. “Where do we go from here?”

  “He won’t be able to follow the river much longer,” Kate advised. “The Firehole cuts through a canyon north of here. No place for a horse to travel. He’ll have to risk the circuit road, at least until he reaches the Madison.”

  “Show us,” he said, and she turned her horse away from the river.

  But a short distance up the road, she realized her mistake. No trail of blood led them onward. No dust cloud on the horizon told of a horse ahead of them. They reached the bridge over the Madison River before Will reined in.

  “Lost him.” Kate heard the bitterness in her voice. “He must have entered the Firehole. Who knows where he came out again?”

  Will turned to Smith. “We need to notify the detachment at Riverside in case he’s making for the entrance.”

  “We need to notify the detachment at Norris too,” Smith replied. “He could just as easily be heading their direction. He’d find more opportunities to sell his ill-gotten goods to the north.”

  Will shook his head. “We can’t go both directions. One of us must escort Mrs. Tremaine home.”

  Kate straightened in the saddle, shoulders protesting. “Nonsense. Norris is just as close as the inn from here. I won’t let you lose this villain on my account.”

  Will leaned closer. “Riding in plain sight with the two of us might not raise comment, but coming alone with me to Norris might.”

  Kate waved a hand. “I’m a widowed woman, and well known in these parts. My reputation should be safe. Private Smith can go on to Riverside. All he has to do is follow the road. I’ll show you the way to Norris, Will. I know a shortcut.”

  Sergeant Nadler had three men left at Norris, Will learned when they arrived a short while later. The others were fighting the fire. The tall blond seemed glad to know about the poacher but even gladder for the company when Will and Kate arrived at his station just as the sun was setting behind the mountains to the west.

  The detachment at Norris had been housed in a rough frame house that had previously belonged to one of the civilian assistant superintendents. Nadler immediately ushered Kate into the main room, where a potbellied stove was smoking. His men scrambled to attention from where they’d been sitting on stumps they would probably end up burning for heat before spring came. Two of the rooms leading off likely served as bedchambers, the third for storage.

  “Mrs. Tremaine,” Nadler said after Will had introduced her and told him their mission. “Welcome to our humble abode.” He held her hand far longer than Will thought appropriate. “Allow me to introduce my men. Privates Rizzo, Zabel, and Quincy.”

  The two black-haired young privates and the older blond stood at attention, gazes forward and chests thrust out, as if she were the head of the Army come for a surprise inspection. Their scruffy beards and dirty uniforms said they either hadn’t been able to find laundry and bathing facilities or had decided against them.

 
“Gentlemen,” she said as pleasantly as if she were meeting Lord Cavell and his party at a fine restaurant. “I appreciate all you’re doing to keep the park safe.”

  Nadler released her to cuff Rizzo on the shoulder, then jerked his head toward the salt pork waiting in a frying pan by the stove.

  “We were just fixing dinner,” Nadler told her as his man rushed toward the stove. “I hope you’ll join us.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” she said with a smile. “I’d be delighted.”

  Will could only assume the invitation included him as well.

  As Rizzo set about frying the salt pork and pulling out slabs of hardtack, Quincy seized the only chair in the room, the slats missing from part of the back, and dragged it over to her. He whipped out his handkerchief and dusted off the battered seat. “Won’t you sit down, ma’am?”

  Kate spread her riding skirt and sat. Nadler drew up a stump and perched at her right. Will edged out Zabel to do the same on her left.

  The pork sizzled as Rizzo turned it, and the pungent scent permeated the room. Besides the stove, stumps, and single chair, the space boasted only a set of shelves along one wall, where they’d piled their canteens, rifles, and ammunition. Wood for the stove was mounded too close to the heat for Will’s comfort. He didn’t want to see what the sleeping arrangements looked like.

  Which meant Kate couldn’t stay here.

  He should have realized that. There would be no woman to play chaperone. He’d hoped the house might at least offer a private room with a locking door, but even that didn’t appear likely. As Nadler asked Kate all kinds of questions, Will tried to think of alternatives.

  Rizzo filled a tin plate with salt pork and hardtack and offered it to Kate with a flourish. Quincy followed with a tin cup of coffee so brimming Will was afraid he’d spill it on himself or her. Kate accepted their offerings with a ready smile and a word of thanks. Nadler and the others went to fill plates as well. Will and Zabel had to make do with bowls, as all the plates were taken. And he wasn’t entirely sure that the crusty lump on the side of his bowl was from tonight’s meal.