Nothing Short of Wondrous

by Regina Scott

  His men stood taller, and Kate let her smile out.

  “Sure’n, we’d be honored to have you watch us play, milady,” O’Reilly said gallantly.

  “Thank you, Private,” Mrs. Pettijohn said with a regal dip of her head.

  Miss Pringle patted Will’s arm. “And you won’t mind if I root for Lieutenant Kingman, would you, dear? I like his beard.”

  Lieutenant Kingman pressed his lips together as if to keep from laughing.

  “Ahem.”

  They all turned to find Alberta standing in the archway to the dining room. Beyond her, the white of the cloths and the silver gleamed in the lamplight. Alberta drew herself up.

  “Dinner,” she said, “is served.”

  Lieutenant Kingman looked to Kate. She knew what courtesy demanded. He was the guest of honor, the man she hoped to impress. She was his hostess. But there was only one man here whose arm she wanted to take.

  She turned to Will. “Lieutenant Prescott, would you escort me to the table?”

  Him? Kingman outranked him, being a first lieutenant to Will’s second, and the dinner was in his honor, both reasons why he should be escorting the prettiest lady in the room. But Kate was waiting, smile bright, and Will humbly offered her his arm.

  She glided along beside him to the head of one of the tables. He was used to her practical outfits, well suited to the wilds of Yellowstone. Tonight, she would have outshined the ladies of Boston. The deep blue of the dress reflected in her eyes, and the drape of the skirt was as graceful as her walk. She nodded to him to take the seat on her left, then smiled at Lieutenant Kingman as he escorted Mrs. Pettijohn to Kate’s right. Kingman’s sergeant led Miss Pringle to sit beside Will. As the other men sat farther down the table, Will spotted Alberta taking Danny’s hand and tugging him for the kitchen. Very likely Caleb would have his dinner there as well.

  Alberta and Pansy returned immediately bearing platters of steak, followed by a tureen heaping with fluffy mashed potatoes and a porcelain boat with thick, rich brown gravy. His mouth started watering.

  His men must have felt the same, for they sat up and followed the movement of the platter with their gazes as it made its way from hand to hand. He could only hope they’d remember the instructions Smith had given them. There were no oysters in sight, but Kate wouldn’t thank them for falling on the food like starving men.

  Even if salt pork had long ago lost all interest.

  “This is excellent, Kate,” Lieutenant Kingman said as he cut another piece off the beef a short while later.

  Will tried not to bristle at the use of Kate’s first name, but something inside him tightened as the first lieutenant smiled in her direction.

  “I’ll have to tell Alberta how much I appreciate her cooking,” Kingman continued, “and how much I’ll miss it.”

  “I was very sorry to hear you were leaving,” Kate told him. “You’ve done so much good around the park.”

  Will sliced through the beef and shoved it into his mouth. From farther down the table, Smith caught his eye and shook his head. Will made himself chew before swallowing.

  “Yellowstone is an amazing place,” Kingman agreed. “Sure to leave its mark on a man. But I don’t have to tell you that. Your Toby loved this park.”

  She dropped her gaze. “Yes, he did.”

  Will seized his lemonade glass rather than take her hand in comfort.

  “I don’t know how many times we sat around this table, talking about the right way to manage such vast holdings.”

  She raised her head. “I remember. And I know you share my belief on the best approach.”

  He nodded. “We must leave the park as the hand of nature left it—a source of pleasure for all who visit. I can only hope you’ll impress that on my successor.”

  Kate raised her glass to him in toast. “You can be sure I will.”

  And Will could only be glad Kingman would be leaving shortly.

  Down the table came the screech of metal on china. Waxworth glared at O’Reilly, who scowled back.

  “Would you pass the potatoes and gravy, Sergeant?” Smith put in smoothly. “I believe some of my colleagues would appreciate a second helping.”

  Kingman’s sergeant passed the tureen of potatoes with a smirk. “You know what they say about Irishmen.”

  O’Reilly leaned away from the table, mouth working. Will fixed his eyes on him, warning him not to spit.

  “That the Irish are a generous and kindhearted people,” Franklin put in loudly.

  “Villing to overlook the faults in others,” Lercher added with a smile to O’Reilly.

  O’Reilly settled in his chair, but he accepted the tureen and served himself and Franklin a heaping pile.

  “Sounds as if I won’t have to worry about you overwintering this year,” Kingman told Kate as Pansy began taking away the dishes. Most were empty, but Waxworth snatched the last bit of steak off the platter. Will was just glad he used his fork.

  Kate smiled at Will. “No, indeed. This winter I’ll have the assistance of the cavalry.”

  Will’s men beamed at her.

  She turned to the engineer, smile fading. “I’m a little concerned about next spring, though. Captain Harris only renewed my lease until then.”

  Kingman shook his head. “Shortsighted. I’m sure he’ll see the wisdom of renewing.”

  “Perhaps you could put a word in his ear,” Kate suggested.

  He laughed. “A cavalry officer, listening to an engineer? That would be novel.”

  Will wasn’t the only one to glower at him, but Alberta came through the door bearing a pumpkin pie, and all attention turned her way.

  A short while later, Miss Pringle spoke up.

  “At what time would you like us to be ready for the baseball game tomorrow, Lieutenant Prescott?”

  All gazes swung his way, and only Kate’s held sympathy.

  “It wouldn’t be fair to play against Lieutenant Prescott, Miss Pringle,” Kingman answered for him. “My men have played for years. They’re quite good. His are somewhat unschooled.”

  He didn’t seem to notice the number of glares directed his way again.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Lieutenant,” Kate told the engineer. “They might surprise you. I’ve found Lieutenant Prescott’s men do well at anything they set their minds to.”

  Waxworth nodded approval.

  Will looked to Kingman, determination building. “So, what do you say, Lieutenant? Will you play an inning or two with me and my men?”

  Kingman glanced down the table. O’Reilly grinned at him. Lercher cracked his knuckles.

  “Six against four?” Kingman said, brows up. “Rather uneven.”

  His sergeant leaned forward. “For them.”

  O’Reilly snorted.

  “Point taken,” Will said before tempers could flare. “And it would be seven against four in any event. I know Danny will want to play.”

  A squeal from the kitchen told him the boy had been listening. Kate’s smile confirmed it.

  Kingman drummed his finger on the table. “That still makes eleven. The teams will be uneven no matter how we divide the men.”

  Mrs. Pettijohn opened her mouth, most likely to volunteer her services again, but Kate spoke first. “I’d like to play as well. If Lieutenant Prescott loans you two of his men, Lieutenant Kingman, the teams will be even, if not quite at the full complement of nine I understand is generally needed.”

  Will thought Kingman might protest, but he apparently knew Kate well enough not to argue. “Very well. Lieutenant Prescott may have you and Danny, and I’ll take . . .” He glanced down the table. All Will’s men but Smith leaned back as if avoiding his gaze.

  “Lercher and Franklin,” he finished.

  Someone groaned.

  “Done,” Will said. “Does half past nine give your staff time to finish serving breakfast, Mrs. Tremaine?”

  She nodded. “That should be fine, Lieutenant.”

  “Where exactly did you plan to play?�
�� Smith put in. “I doubt Mrs. Tremaine would allow us to set up bases on the geyser field.”

  “There’s a field across the road,” Kate offered. “We graze the horses and cows there.”

  Kingman’s nose twitched. “And the evidence of their occupation might make for a difficult game.”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Pettijohn declared. “No cavalryman can possibly be concerned about a few horse droppings.”

  Miss Pringle covered her rosebud mouth with her hand, eyes widening.

  “Sure’n no cavalryman,” O’Reilly agreed with a look at Kingman’s sergeant. “But it’s probably above the high-and-mighty head of an engineer.”

  “Gentlemen,” Kingman said as his sergeant looked daggers at O’Reilly. “No need for concern. There’s a meadow to the southwest, across the Firehole River. I saw it when I was surveying for the road two years ago. It ought to be big enough, with fewer . . . obstacles.”

  Kate stiffened on her chair, but her voice came out calmly enough. “Not the best area for this sort of thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t rife with burrows. Someone could break an ankle.”

  “Oh!” Miss Pringle dropped her hand, eyes lighting. “And then we’d have to nurse him back to health.”

  “We’ll check the ground before playing,” Kingman assured them both. “The late Mr. Tremaine and I walked this area several times. It is the most likely space. Unless you’ve discovered another, Kate.”

  Her smile looked strained. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll go out first thing in the morning to check it. It’s the least I can do as your hostess.”

  The conversation moved on to other baseball games Kingman and his men had played, the positions they preferred to fill, how well they hit. He was trying to intimidate Will’s men, but, by the looks flashing between them, they were having none of it. Will was more concerned about Kate. She kept sinking her fork into the pie, but she never took another bite.

  She’d told him she’d put the area to the southwest off-limits. Now she’d tried to warn Kingman away. What was she worried about? If the area held some danger, why not name it?

  He didn’t have answers, but he knew one thing. She wouldn’t be going out there alone come morning.

  17

  Dawn was a smudge of gold to the east when Kate tiptoed out of the Geyser Gateway the next morning, knapsack slung over one shoulder. Steam from the hot pools lay like sleeping sheep over the crusty soil, and the only sound was the faint plop of the paint pots. Hitching her knapsack higher, she struck out for the Firehole River. At the edge of the pines, she paused to glance back at the hotel. Nothing moved. No one followed. She headed for the footbridge.

  Birds sang from the trees as she followed the river south. There was no trail into their special spot, but she knew the way. Hop the rocks to cross Fairy Creek, watch for the break in the hills, climb the slope between them, detour around the big cedar, and take a right at the lichen-capped boulder. A few more yards, and she broke free of the hills into a series of meadows that ran along a clear stream, just as the sun leaped above the Absarokas. Light spread across the grass, climbed the sides of the massive beasts cuddled together for warmth.

  One, three, five, ten. Kate counted the shaggy heads of the bison. Only twenty individuals, all told, but the bulls were off on their own now.

  “Hey!” she called. “Hey! Wake up and move! They’re coming!”

  The lead female, who Toby had named Big Bertha, heaved herself to her feet and chuffed at Kate, nostrils flaring as she sniffed the cool morning air. Kate’s heart started pounding, but she held her ground. This wasn’t a grizzly. These were old friends, even if they were big enough and wild enough to harm her. The bison could charge without warning, trample and gore her in seconds.

  Bertha deigned to puff at her sister bison. One by one, the others rose too, rough hides dark in the pearly light. Kate thought it was more the day’s advance than her encouragement that made them begin to amble up the grass for the farther meadow through the trees.

  “Go on, go on,” she urged them, daring to follow behind. “This is your home, but we don’t have to let anyone else know.”

  Bertha looked back at her, eyes bright, and Kate froze. Slowly, she bowed to the beast, arms spread. “I mean you no harm. I just want to keep you safe.”

  She glanced up to find Bertha had dismissed her, leading her group in a stately retreat until they disappeared beyond the pines.

  Kate exhaled, sagging. Once Will and the others arrived, the bison would stay away for a while. That’s what had happened every time Toby had grown boisterous in their presence. He’d gradually learned the great beasts didn’t appreciate his enthusiasm for them. These meadows were the only place her irrepressible husband had been able to sit still and listen.

  Now, to eliminate as much of their presence as possible.

  She could do little about the fresh buffalo chips along the edge of the meadow, but she gathered the dry patties into her knapsack. There was a good-sized wallow on the southern edge, left by the bulls earlier in the season, the hollow dusty and raw. Maybe she could keep the game from including that area or claim the wallow was an old artifact. With a nod, she headed back toward the hotel. She was between the hills when she noticed movement among the trees ahead.

  Kate straightened her spine and angled to meet him.

  “Good morning, Will,” she said as if they were greeting each other on the hotel veranda. “You must take this game seriously to be out so early.”

  He regarded her, the brim of his dun wool hat shadowing his eyes. “I might say the same for you.”

  Kate forced a shrug. “I was just out collecting fuel left from days past. See?” She opened the mouth of her sack and aimed it his way.

  He recoiled. “Please tell me Alberta doesn’t cook her pies with that.”

  “We only use it when wood or coal is scarce,” Kate assured him, cinching the sack closed again. “And they don’t smell nearly as much as you would think. But you’ll be thankful for them when it’s twenty below and snowing and you don’t have to go out and chop wood.”

  His gaze went beyond her. “So, this is the area you put off-limits. Anything I should know?”

  Nothing she was willing to tell him. “No. I glanced at the meadow Lieutenant Kingman wants to use. The grass isn’t too high, and I didn’t see any burrows. You should be able to play.”

  “Good.” He nodded to her. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Danny.”

  He turned to walk with her as she set out for the hotel. “I heard you talk with Danny a little about this game. You hit a ball with a stick . . .”

  “A bat,” he corrected her.

  She probably should use the correct terminology. “A bat, then. And you run around in a circle until someone throws the ball at you.”

  She glanced over in time to see him wince. “It’s a little more precise than that. There’s strategy involved as to where you hit the ball and how far. You don’t run in a circle; there are three bases and home plate you must touch as you run. Every man has a position he must play, an area of the field he watches.”

  “Like a sweep of the geyser field,” Kate allowed, making for the footbridge.

  “Exactly. And the pitcher in the center of the field will be trying to throw the ball in such a way as to make sure you can’t hit it.”

  That didn’t seem very fair. “And you think Danny will enjoy the game?”

  His smile was warmer than the sunrise. “I know Danny will love it.”

  But Danny wasn’t the only one looking forward to the game, Kate saw when she and Will returned to the hotel. Miss Pringle and Mrs. Pettijohn were on the veranda, watching Lieutenant Kingman, his men, and Privates Franklin and Lercher huddle near the geyser field. Will’s men were grouped on one end of the veranda, eyes narrowed and feet shifting as they eyed their opponents.

  “Lieutenant Kingman is discussing strategy,” Miss Pringle told Kate as she and Will joined the two ladies.

  “And I should
do the same,” Will acknowledged with a tip of his hat to her guests. “Mrs. Tremaine, would you and Danny join us?”

  “Give me a moment to stow this,” she said, hand on her knapsack.

  He nodded agreement and headed toward the end of the veranda and the rest of his men.

  “Have you had breakfast?” Kate asked the two older ladies.

  “Oh yes, dear,” Miss Pringle told her.

  “We refused to let anything slow the game,” Mrs. Pettijohn agreed. “Now, hurry.”

  Bemused, Kate went to store the chips and search for Danny.

  She found him in the kitchen, finishing his bowl of oatmeal. Mr. Jones was with him.

  “He was a bit too excited to eat alone,” her guest explained as if he’d seen the look of surprise on Kate’s face.

  Danny nodded, oatmeal dribbling down his chin. “Mr. Jones used to play baseball when he was a boy.”

  Kate had been under the impression the game was newer than when Mr. Jones had been young, but perhaps she was mistaken. “Then you are welcome to join in,” she told the older man, going to the sink to wash her hands. “I’m sure either Lieutenant Kingman or Lieutenant Prescott would appreciate another experienced player on the team.”

  He patted his left knee through his buckskins. “Alas, an old war injury keeps me away from the game these days. You must tell me all about it when you return, Mr. Tremaine.”

  Danny giggled. “He calls me mister,” he said to Kate.

  “So I heard,” Kate said with a smile. “Miss Pringle and Mrs. Pettijohn will be glad for your company, Mr. Jones, as they cheer.”

  He grimaced. “Miss Pringle and Mrs. Pettijohn seem mighty interested in single gentlemen. I’ll head up to the Little Firehole and fish.”

  Danny scraped the last of the oatmeal from his bowl. “You’ll miss all the fun.”

  “But I’ll know my good friend Mr. Tremaine is having fun,” he replied. “You and Mrs. Guthrie can tell me all about it when you get back.”

  Alberta looked up eagerly from the stove. “Can we all come, Mrs. Tremaine?”

  Had the sun gone behind a cloud? Kate felt as if the light in the room had dimmed at the thought of leaving the hotel unattended. She hated making Alberta, Pansy, or Caleb stay behind, and she didn’t want to miss Danny in his element.