THE OFFICER AND THE SOUTHERNER

ROSE GORDON

This book is a work of fiction. All names, events and locales are a product of this author’s imagination. If any name, event and/or locale did exist, it is purely by coincidence it appears in this book.

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THE OFFICER AND THE SOUTHERNER

Copyright © 2013 Rose Gordon

Cover image copyright © 2013 Lily Smith

All rights reserved.

Amazon Edition

Published by Parchment & Plume, LLC

www.parchmentandplume.com

~Prologue~

Fort Gibson, Indian Territory

Late May 1845

Second Lieutenant Jack Walker scanned the endless, crisp, sun-scorched grass that stretched out for miles ahead of him from where he sat on the roof of the northwest lookout tower. Lush, open prairie, he scribbled on his paper. He mindlessly drummed his fingers against his thigh, thinking of what else to write in the ad he was placing for a mail order bride.

He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Warm weather. He jotted that down and looked up in time to see a man on a horse. Jack tipped his hat to the man and the rider returned the gesture. Friendly neighbors.

There, that should do it. He rescanned the lines of his ad, for a mail order bride a slow smile spreading over his lips. Perfect. He folded up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, lest anyone see him carrying it.

Whistling, he climbed down from his perch and made his way across the large courtyard of the barracks to his office, where he dripped hot wax on the top edge of the folded paper and sealed it.

“Jack? Are you in here?”

Jack snapped his head up to see the curious blue eyes of his friend, and the reason he’d had the nerve and motivation to write the ad in the first place, Captain Wes Tucker. Wes had married a mail order bride less than a week ago and everything seemed to be working out perfectly for the two of them, giving Jack hope the same would be possible for him.

“Do you need something, Wes?” he asked as he shuffled around the papers on his desk to hide the address of the Savannah newspaper he was writing to.

“Yes, it’s time for you to hie yourself up into the watchtower.”

“Oh. Right,” he said, trying not to scowl. “I just need to finish getting this mail addressed and into the basket, and then I’ll be right out.”

Wes nodded his head slowly and gave him a quizzical look. “Don’t be long.”

As soon as Wes was out of the room, Jack finished addressing his letter, then slipped it into the middle of the stack of letters waiting to go out with this week’s mail.

~Chapter One~

August 1845

Savannah, Georgia

Ella Davis clenched her hands into tight fists and blinked back the hot tears as she ran from the ballroom and toward Mrs. Beasley’s fainting room. She reached the door and swung it open with far more force than was necessary, then walked inside, and closed it in the same manner.

Silent sobs wracked her body and her vision blurred. Why did this keep happening? Every time she found a gentleman she thought could one day become her husband, he proposed to someone else!

In front of her. Publicly. With no warning. Just shouted for everyone’s attention while at a ball or dinner, then began to speak words of admiration, beauty, fun, and even love. And like the dolt she was, her heart began to flutter. But then, he’d drop to his knee and say a name: Virginia Cole; Grace Fulton; Elizabeth Knight; and her fluttering heart would come to an abrupt stop.

With something as simple as two words, her world would come crashing down.

And tonight was no exception.

The tears that had filled her eyes only moments before spilled over and coursed down her cheeks as she remembered the way Daniel Coleman, the young man who’d been showing her marked attention for the past two months, began his speech, then instead of saying Ella Davis, spoke the words: Rachel Cline.

“Ella?” came the muffled voice of her older sister Michaela.

Ella squeezed her eyes shut tighter and prayed for a miracle to happen that would result in her being transported somewhere far, far away when she opened her eyes.

No such luck.

“Ella, I know you’re in there. Can I come in, too?”

Ella didn’t want to let her in but knew Michaela being outside knocking on the door and calling her name would cause a scene, making matters worse than they already were.

Wordlessly, she opened the door for her sister, who took no time letting herself inside.

“Ella, I’m sorry,” Michaela said, wrapping her arms around Ella.

“I just don’t understand why this keeps happening to me—” Words failed her as sobs wracked her body once again.

“Shhh,” Michaela crooned. “It’s all right. You’re only nineteen. You have plenty of time yet to find a husband.”

No, she didn’t. Especially not if this...this...atrocity...continued to happen. Surely by now, the sixth time she’d left the ballroom in tears after the fellow who’d paid attention to her proposed to another, she’d become the laughing stock.

“Don’t you see what a blessing this is?” Michaela said softly.

“A blessing?” Ella pulled away from her sister. Was she addled? “I’m not always right about these things, but I’m fairly certain it’s not a blessing to be publicly humiliated.”

“Well, no,” her sister agreed with a smile. “But it is far better to be humiliated in this manner than to be made a mockery of if you’d married any one of these toads.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t the one humiliated.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Michaela agreed. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t hurt for you and share your pain and humiliation, does it?”

“Thank you,” Ella said with a sniffle. Of all three of Ella’s sisters, Michaela was the only one she’d ever felt very close to. She couldn’t say why though. Michaela was three-and-twenty, four years Ella’s senior, and though still unmarried, it seemed that was by choice, whereas, it was because no one truly wanted Ella that she was still in such a state.

“I know what you need,” Michaela said, snapping her fingers. “And I’d wager Mrs. Beasley has such a newspaper in this very room.”

Ella did her best to groan despite the smile tugging on the corner of her lips. “Not now, Michaela.”

Michaela ignored her protest and walked over to a large oak box placed under the table at the far end of the sofa. Humming, Michaela dug into the box until she found what she wanted. “Here we go,” she chirped happily then made her way back over to Ella, the shiny blue fabric of her gown rustling as she walked. “Sit.”

Reluctantly, Ella obeyed her older sister’s command and sat down on the plush, red sofa. “Michaela, this really isn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” She wet her lips. “Listen to this: ‘Aged 52, ready to start a family, average appearance, looking for wife no older than 25, not ugly, any Nationality accepted—except French, Irish, German or Italian.’” Michaela twisted her lips into a frown. “With an ad such as that, I’m sure he’s already taken.”

Despite herself, Ella cracked a small smile.

“Oh, here’s another, ‘I’m 37, brown hair, blue eyes, average height. I have three sons and two daughters in need of a good mother, age is unimportant as long as she’s under thirty, must be able to cook and play the piano—’”

“Oh pity,” Ella said with a small sniffle. “I thought I’d found the man of my dreams until the bit about the piano.”

“Not to fear, there are others.” Michaela scanned further down the page. “Ella, I think I have found the man for you!”

“I can hardly wait to hear about him,” Ella said under her breath, hardly noticing that the tears had stopped. At least, the sad kind. Ella might not understand why Michaela hadn’t wished to marry when she could have had just about any man she’d wanted, but it had always been Michaela’s playing this game with her when she felt most in despair that had helped Ella accept her fate and try to get past the hurt.

“‘My age is 42 and am living in Minnesota on 40 acres. In need of a wife who can tend to the farm and take care of a bedridden husband. Experience in birthing cows is a must. She can be homely and fat. Widows with children need not inquire.’”

“Well, I’ve birthed a horse or two and I don’t have any children,” Ella said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the ad.

“If I understand correctly, you probably won’t be having any after you marry him, either,” Michaela added.

“Indeed.”

Michaela put the paper down on the cushion next to her. “Do you feel any better now?”

“A little,” Ella admitted.

“Only a little? Well then, I must read more.” Michaela picked up the paper. “‘Younger man with steady pay, handsome looks and no children in need of a sturdy wife who can handle the life in a large dwelling with many rooms on one hundred sixty acres, surrounded by lush, open prairie, warm weather, and friendly neighbors.’”

Ella frowned. “That one doesn’t sound so bad, actually.”

Michaela lifted her eyebrows. “No, it sounds like he is a wonderful writer who knows how to manipulate his words. ‘A sturdy wife who can handle the life in a large dwelling with many rooms on one hundred sixty acres, surrounded by lush, open prairie, warm weather, and friendly neighbors,’ is just a nice way of saying: he has a giant house with far too many rooms that he expects you to keep clean then go out into the stifling heat to help him take care of those one hundred sixty acres—because we both know it has to be by his large land that he’s able to have that ‘steady pay’ he claims. Then, when you’re all done with that, you get to go back into the kitchen and make pies and whatnot for his friendly neighbors.”

Ella stared at her sister. Likely, it was this cynical attitude Michaela had that had kept her from falling in love. “I think you might be exaggerating. Besides, for a young lady such as myself, who cannot seem to snare a man here for whatever reason, I might have better luck with him.”

Michaela’s face fell. “Ella, you haven’t given up hope, have you?”

Those hot tears from earlier pricked the back of her eyes again and it was all she could do to nod. “I don’t understand what men find so undesirable about me.”

“I don’t know, either,” Michaela said, a frown touching her lips. “You’re rather pretty.”

“That’s your opinion,” Ella argued. She’d overheard enough conversations about her large, thin nose, mismatched eyes (one blue, one green), and small chest to know she wasn’t the most beautiful in the county; but she could hardly see how those flaws were enough to lead so many men to play with her affections, but apparently they had... “Who knows, perhaps Mr. Lush Prairie with warm weather and friendly neighbors is exactly who I need.”

“You’re not really considering writing back, are you?”

Ella forced a shrug and tucked a tendril of her raven hair behind her ear. “I don’t see what it could hurt.”

“You don’t?” Michaela’s green eyes widened. “Pa would never allow you to marry a stranger.”

“I don’t see why not. He agreed to allow me to court Stephen, Daniel and Albert with the idea of marriage, didn’t he?”

“That’s different. He knew them. Admittedly not well, or he wouldn’t have given his approval to such degenerates, but he at least knew who they were and what kind of life you’d have if you had married one of them. Nobody knows if the man who wrote this is an addict of some sort or if he drinks and turns violent.”

Michaela had a point. This ad said very little about the man; but what if she wrote to him first? That’s how it worked anyway, wasn’t it? A lady responded to the ad to express interest and tell about herself, and if he found her suitable, he’d write back with more information about himself along with the details of how she’d arrive. “It wouldn’t hurt to just write to him, would it?”

Michaela knit her brow. “Ella, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I just said I wanted to write to him. I didn’t say I would agree to marry him.”

“Well, I suppose I don’t see any harm in just writing to him...” She shot Ella a slim smile and tucked a fallen lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. “But that’s all it shall be, Ella. You cannot agree to marry him.”

“I won’t.” At least not yet.

~Chapter Two~

Dear Sir,

I am writing in response to your ad in the local newspaper. I am nineteen and without any attachment other than to my family, who owns a cotton plantation. I come to a mark just below five-foot-three, but have never been confused for a Weak Nellie—although my name is Ella. Well, actually, it’s Elinor, but everyone calls me Ella... What I mean to say is that I may not be much to look at in regards to size, but I am strong, determined, able to cook, clean, and sew, and a little outside work now and again isn’t going to put me off.

I do have a question for you, kind sir:

Just how warm is “warm”?

Ella Davis

Jack stared in awe at the crisp white sheet that had arrived for him. Someone had finally replied. Well, not just someone, but someone who was finally interesting and sent more than just a request for her fare to be arranged or pages upon pages of nonsense. He scowled at the stack of other missives. Some touted their talents and beauty; others had neglected to mention anything about themselves. Could that be because they were homely? He shook his head. All of their letters had been short and bland or longwinded and tedious. This one, though neither overly long nor very serious—either in tone or her intentions, it would seem—sparked his interest for some reason.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder to ensure he was still alone, he snatched up his quill from his desk and began to pen a response.

Dear Ella,

I hope you don’t mind that I used your first name, but if we are to one day marry...

As for your question:

Warm is just that. It’s not cool nor is it completely intolerable in the summer months. Of course, there is plenty of shade out here, not in the form of a large number of sizable trees, I’m afraid, but still plenty of shade when the sun is shining on the side of our home. Not to mention, you will have more than enough room to store your fans and parasols should you decide to bring them. Which you should, of course, since it does get “warm” in the summer.

Now I have a question for you:

Shall I make arrangements for your travel?

Ever waiting,

Jack Walker

Ella’s heart nearly stopped. He’d written her back! The day after she’d mailed the letter, she’d spent the entire afternoon at the post office trying to get it back. She’d seemed so silly in her reply to his ad. Not only had her message been a tad on the lacking side, but she was fairly certain he’d had scores of replies—all by ladies who were actually ready to pack their trunks, travel to his land and become his bride.

And yet a month later, she was holding the thick vellum of his response. And not only had he responded, but he’d mentioned arrangements for her travel! Her heart skipped a beat. Then she frowned and hid his letter when she heard Michaela coming down the hall. Likely Michaela would chide her for actually writing to the man in the first place. Then she might try to dissuade Ella by being cynical and saying that he’d only responded and offered to book her fare because he hadn’t received any other replies. It wasn’t that Michaela tried to be negative. She was just very realistic. That, and for some reason Ella failed to understand, Michaela still had no interest—fleeting or otherwise—in any of the men they’d met.

Some hours later when dinner was over and the sun’s light was gone, Ella lit a lamp and turned the wick to render the lowest glow possible that still allowed her to see and began to write.

Dear Jack,

I hope you do not mind my use of your first name, as I have not yet agreed to marry you. I don’t believe I even know your age! Just that you’re a “younger man”.

Your home sounds...large...and so does your land. Tell me, kind sir, if you live on one hundred and sixty acres and earn steady pay, what exactly is it that you do?

Ella Davis

Jack chuckled at her response. Clever girl, she was. He glanced over at the ever growing stack of letters he’d received from other young ladies. None of which intrigued him like this one though. Not that he’d ever placed an ad before this one, or since. From the other letters he’d received, he’d come to believe that his original assumptions were true. A man posted an ad, and then an interested woman replied with similar statements about herself and sent along her consent, so he could make arrangements for her to join him if he thought they’d make a good match.

Apparently, Miss Ella Davis was unaware of this custom.

Not that he minded so much.

He wanted a wife. Someone to rub his aching shoulders and warm his bed—and as a man of four-and-twenty, his mind came up with all sorts of enjoyable ways for her to do the latter. He shifted in his chair.

All he had to do was reply to one of the dozens of other letters he kept stored under the false bottom in the drawer of the desk that he shared with Lieutenant McCorkle. But for some reason, he wasn’t ready to end his connection with Ella yet.

Dear Ella,

I have no qualms with your using my given name, as I hope it is a sign that you are giving serious thought to marrying me. I suppose because you’re giving it consideration, I should toss my pride aside and inform you of an indelicate matter. I am currently four past twenty and swiftly approaching my next birthday.

As for my land, fear not, it is nothing that needs to be tilled, plowed, or harvested. It is just a large open area of land and my steady pay comes from work I do for the Army.

Do you wish to know anything else? Or shall I send your fare? That would make a wonderful belated birthday present...

Jack

Ella couldn’t hide her grin as she closed the door to the room she shared with Michaela and sat down by the desk. He’d written to her again. Though he hadn’t offered to make arrangements for her to join him, he’d written back and given her the hope that if she replied once more, he’d also respond again.

She had no idea why she kept writing to him—or why he continued to answer her. She’d casually mentioned to her father that with the close of another marriage season, perhaps she should start searching the newspaper for mail order bride ads. She wasn’t sure which was worse: his fist slamming on the table as he thundered that his daughter would not become a mail order bride, to be reduced to a common whore by a conniving brothel owner, or the imploring look on her sister’s face.

Ella idly combed her fingers through her long black hair. Her father wasn’t a bad or cruel man, just...protective. While most fathers didn’t wish to acknowledge the ugly side of life, her father, General Samuel Davis, had no qualms about reminding her and her sisters that a woman was only one poor decision away from a life of pain and ruin.

She shivered. What was the point in writing to Jack again? She hardly knew anything about him. Their letters had consisted of just a few sentences—nothing really about him. How did she know that he wasn’t one of those vile men her father warned her about?

With a sigh, she sat down to pen what would have to be her final letter to him. There was no use in keeping his interest if she had no intention of making good on her promise; but for selfish reasons alone, she had to send just one more and get one more response. Then she’d stop.

Dear Jack,

I hope your birthday was pleasant. Mine is nearing, as well, and falls each year on the first of January. I shall accept your lack of present for me as the present I never sent you and consider us on equal grounds this year!

I know this will reach you after the holiday has passed, so I shall not bore you with the pleasantry of wishing you a Merry Christmas; but since you asked if there was anything else I’d like to know, I do have one final question: How and with whom do you spend your holidays?

Ella

P. S. With no plowing, tilling, planting, and reaping, I wonder how the grass stays short enough to keep the furry critters at bay...

Jack stared down at the paper. Was this some sort of test? If it was, he’d come up lacking.

He raked his hand through his black hair and continued to stare blankly at the paper. With a shrug, he picked up his pen and wrote the first thing that came to mind.

Dear Ella,

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. As lonely as living out here can be, Christmas is one of the few times during the year that I don’t mind being here alone.

My holidays are spent with military men. Colonel Lewis usually invites me and a handful of other commissioned officers: Captain Wes Tucker (accompanied by his wife, Allison, who is all but physically attached to his hip), Captain Grayson Montgomery (better known as Gray) and Lieutenant Bryce McCorkle to his home, where his wife prepares a meal for us as if we are all kings.

Following the meal, we all exchange gifts.

This Christmas, we men received new coatees and scarves from the Lewises, and Mrs. Lewis gave Allison a new winter gown.

Allison made pastries with our favorite fillings for the men and presented Mrs. Lewis with a new tablecloth.

Wes claimed his part of the gift was being made to suffer the delicious smells and having his hand smacked for trying to pilfer a pastry.

McCorkle gave us each two cigarettes—though none of us smoke. He was quite happy to re-collect.

Gray is the worst gift-giver of them all and gave us all the same gift he gives us each year. Unfortunately, I cannot explain what it is or you might never write back!

In a strange way that doesn’t involve blood or last names, we are all brothers of a sort and have no problem playing the part. Gifts are unimportant out here as none of us have much to offer the others except friendship.

This tradition of spending the day with the Lewises started before I arrived, and I cannot imagine spending the holiday any other way. I suppose you should know that I have no other relations out here with me. No mother or sister for you to turn to for support, sadly. But I’m sure if you decide to come that Mrs. Lewis and Allison (and even Sarah Ridgely) will be your family.

Jack

P.S. Fear not, my darling, the grass doesn’t require a sickle to stay short and groomed. I have a special pair of scissors I’ll teach you to use to maintain it if you don’t wish to make a new furry friend. Although I must admit, I thought females liked things that were soft and furry...

Ella’s heart lurched as she reread the missive over and over again. While Jack’s earlier letters had been amusing, this one was different.

This one was him. Not just a simple answer to her question. This was original. Real.

From behind where she sat out in the middle of a grassy field on a mild mid-February day, she heard the wheels of a wagon and folded and stuffed the letter into her bodice.

This was it. Time to make a choice. She either needed to heed her father’s urging to find a husband this year among the Mitchell boys, who’d bought the plantation thirty miles north of Savannah, or defy his wish, betray her sister and scandalize the whole county by becoming a mail order bride...

The choice was easy; the execution, however, might not be.

Walking around and pretending to look over and cultivate the soil in the modest kitchen garden she’d planted in front of her home, she formed a plan; then once dinner was finished, she penned her final letter to Jack.

Dearest Jack,

I should have enough time to pack all of my parasols and fans to prepare for your “warm” weather by the time your next letter arrives. All I shall need then is some direction of where to go...

Ella

P.S. I shall be sure to pack an extra pair of kid gloves so my fingers do not blister while using those scissors you mentioned to snip the grass. This female’s love for “all things soft and furry” ends at anything smaller than my purse.

Unintentionally, Jack crumpled her letter in his strong hold and grinned like an eight-year-old boy who’d just spotted a pie cooling in the window. She was coming!

Ignoring the inquisitive eyes of Wes and Gray, Jack all but ran to the officers’ office and fell into his chair. At one point in his life, he’d have scowled at the prospect of having to write so many letters, but not today. There was much to be done in his quest to prepare for Ella’s arrival...

Including one last letter to Ella.

Dear Ella,

I am honored that you have elected to spend the rest of your life with me. It might not always be easy, for anything truly worth having is never easy to attain and keep, but I shall do my best to be a good husband to you. I do not have much else to offer than that, but I hope that it will be enough.

Sincerely,

Jack

Jack scowled down at the paper. What had gotten into him? He couldn’t send that. She’d think him too...too...well, he couldn’t place it, but surely she’d change her mind. Instead, he slipped that ill-begotten missive into his pocket and tried again.

Dear Ella,

I am most pleased with your decision and I hope that you will be, too, upon your arrival here. I’ve made arrangements for you to travel to Ft. Smith, where I have arranged for a private escort to accompany you the rest of the way.

Godspeed,

Jack

P.S. I do believe we shall get along well, indeed. My love for all things soft and furry both begins and ends with a dog.

Ella bit her lip to contain the little scream of excitement that threatened to escape her lips.

This was it. She was finally going to be married and to someone who wanted her. Never mind the fact that he’d been forced by circumstances to place such an ad and she’d had a horrible string of insincere suitors that had prompted her to reply. From what he’d written in his letters, she had every reason to believe they’d be a perfect match.

How many times had her father told her that there was a good man out there waiting for her—she just hadn’t found him yet? One who’d love and protect her as a husband ought. One who wouldn’t care that she wasn’t the most graceful dancer or more beautiful than the frost-covered trees in winter. One who’d see her for who she was and love her because of it. She sat on the edge of her bed with a wistful sigh. Jack. He didn’t seem a dishonest schemer to her. He seemed protective and, most of all, genuine. Just what she needed.

She grabbed her pillow, held it loosely over her face, and tumbled back against her bed for what might very well be the last time ever as excitement passed through her. Of course everything would work out just fine, she told herself. She was just nervous. That was it. These feelings of uneasiness and delight were normal for a girl who, in less than a day, would be on a hired stage, heading to lands unknown.

Of course, her father and sister thought she would be on her way to northern Virginia to spend some time with her widowed aunt—which might be a good portion of her anxiety. She tossed the pillow to the side and sat back up. She’d write to her father and Michaela and tell them the truth after she was safely married to Jack, she reminded herself. They’d be happy for her then.

Pushing away any final hint of doubt or fear and not letting it cloud her happiness and excitement, she finished packing all of the things she’d need for the rest of her life.

~Chapter Three~

May 1846

Jack tossed down his hat and shrugged out of his coatee. He slipped the button at the top of his shirt free and proceeded to unbutton each of his cuffs. It was too hot in here as it was, and he could hardly sit still long enough to finish his report about what he and his men had found when they’d ridden out to the Creek land last week. He scribbled down a few more words so the report looked lengthier and Colonel Lewis didn’t ask for more details Jack couldn’t remember. The men and women he’d visited seemed just fine. They had enough food and water and didn’t seem to give any indication that they had thoughts of attacking the fort and lynching those who lived here.

To his mind, all was fine.

At least where the Creeks lived. For him, personally, all was the furthest thing from fine. Not that it was bad, however. He was just...er...nervous.

Not necessarily a good nervous, but not a bad nervous, either. It was more like a mix of the two, but mainly good.

“Are you feeling well, Jack?”

Jack started. “Yes. Why?”

His friend Wes shrugged and idly scratched the brown hair just above his temple. “You just seem anxious.”

Of course he was anxious. After the better part of a year and a plethora of letters passing between them, Jack had finally convinced one Miss Elinor “Ella” Davis to come here as his mail order bride, and if he’d done his calculations correctly, today was the day she was set to arrive. Of course, nobody else knew of this yet, lest she reach Fort Smith, change her mind and not come. His gut tightened at the thought. “Everything’s fine,” he said as smoothly as he could.

“Hmmm,” Wes said before turning his attention back to the paper in front of him.

“Hmmm, what?” Jack asked, scowling.

“Nothing. I just find it odd that you keep glancing out the window every thirty seconds.”

Jack swallowed. He hadn’t meant to be so obvious. “I asked McCorkle to march my men this afternoon so I could finish this report. I want to make sure, by the time they come back, they still know how to march properly.”

Wes chuckled and Jack relaxed. All of the other officers here knew McCorkle couldn’t think more than half a step ahead of himself. To be quite honest and incredibly blunt, it was a miracle the man was able to dress himself in the morning. It seemed he needed direct orders to do just about anything, and heaven only knew what his men often talked him into letting them do because he was so easy to persuade. “If you wanted to ensure they stayed on task and actually learned something, you should have sent them with Gray, then.”

“I would have, but Gray said no.”

“Do you blame him?”

“If he wanted to eat that pastry, then he shouldn’t have left it unattended,” Jack said in his own defense.

Wes shook his head. “And that is why I am so glad I have a wife who can bake me pies and pastries whenever I ask, and not once every six months.”

A hint of a smile touched Jack’s lips. Ella could cook, too. “Allison wasn’t always so eager if I remember right.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Wes agreed. “She just had to learn. And thank heaven she did or else she’d surely have perished within a month if Mrs. Ridgely hadn’t helped her.”

Jack signed his name to his report and walked it over to Colonel Lewis’ desk so the man could find it easy enough and not come pestering Jack for it later. Because frankly, later, he’d be busy. Tonight would be his wedding night, after all... He cleared his throat and his thoughts simultaneously before he found himself in an awkward situation that he’d have to think of some way to explain his way out of.

“Surely, it wasn’t so bad for Allison when she first came. I seem to remember her being very cheerful.”

Wes snorted. “That’s because you only saw her in brief snatches when she first arrived. Fort Gibson is nothing like where she came from in Boston. She struggled at first.”

“But she did learn,” Jack hedged.

A wide grin split Wes’ face. “Of course she did. It just took some time.”

Jack expected the same from Ella. Although to tell the truth, from Ella’s letters, she seemed to have a better understanding of what was expected of her as a wife. If Jack remembered correctly, not only could Allison not cook, but she couldn’t even sew either, and Wes had to use his clothing allowance to buy her a shirt to wear with the unusual skirt she’d sewn.

“Jack?”

Jack started again. “Yes?”

“You’re not thinking to do something foolish, are you?”

“Foolish?”

“Yes.” Wes’ blue eyes searched Jack’s heated face. “You haven’t taken it into your mind to send off for a mail order bride again, have you?”

“No.” That wasn’t a lie. He’d already sent off for one; he had no need to send off for another. “Why do you ask?”

Wes’ eyes narrowed. “Because every time you start talking about Allison, you get this distant look in your eyes—the very one you had last year right after Allison came and you suggested you could use a wife and were thinking about sending off for a mail order bride.”

“I still don’t see what’s wrong with my logic. A wife out here could make a man’s life far easier.”

“And hers miserable,” Wes countered. He raked a hand through his brown hair. “Jack, please don’t do anything foolish. Besides the fact that she’d be utterly miserable married to you in the first place, the journey here might kill her.”

Silence filled the air. Last year, days after Allison had arrived, Jack, Wes and Gray had found a ransacked carriage and the bodies of Allison’s traveling companions. “Not to worry about that. If I were to seek a wife and have her travel here to meet me, I’d have her come across from Fort Smith. It’s far safer that way than down the Texas Trail.”

“You speak as if you’ve already made plans to do this,” Wes said, steepling his hands in front of his face.

Jack shrugged. “After what happened last year, a man couldn’t be too careful making travel plans for his future wife.”

“You do know that Allison’s arrival here wasn’t planned.”

“I know,” he said thickly. This was a fact he was unaware of when he’d originally placed his ad. When Allison had arrived, Wes had led them all to believe she was a mail order bride. It wasn’t until a man who claimed to be her intended appeared that the truth was exposed. “Because it was just a random occurrence and not your own arrangements for her to be on the Texas Trail, I don’t place any blame on you.”

“Thank you,” Wes said dryly.

Jack frowned at his friend’s sarcasm. “I’m sure that had you actually sent off for a mail order bride, you’d have done whatever necessary to keep her safe.”

“Including arranging an Army escort,” Captain Grayson “Gray” Montgomery said, poking his head in the door of the large room all the officers shared to do their work.

Jack’s heart thudded in his chest. Did that mean... “I should think that would be prudent,” Jack said slowly.

Gray scoffed. “You know darn well that’s exactly what you’d do because that’s what you did do.” He stepped inside the office and closed the door. “I didn’t think you’d truly have the nerve or the stupidity to actually send off for a wife. Nor did I think one would be desperate enough to respond, but I suppose that makes me the biggest fool of all because there’s a beautiful woman who just arrived and is claiming she’s looking for a man named Jack Walker—her intended.”

~Chapter Four~

Ella could hardly breathe in anticipation of meeting Jack for the first time.

She’d met with a man named General Bridges when she arrived at Fort Smith. He immediately recognized what he was to do and promised she’d be delivered to Jack at Fort Gibson before the day’s end.

Thank goodness because she was tired of riding in the small, stuffy confines of a carriage. She’d never really given much thought to the size of Jack’s home before she left, but as the days had dragged on and on and the box of the carriage had seemed to grow smaller and smaller, she was looking forward to an open space where she could actually move and stretch...and scratch. During the final part of her journey the coach driver had become quite put out with her asking for him to unload her trunks each night so she’d resorted to having to wear the same stockings for the past three days and to be frank, they were becoming terribly uncomfortable. Just thinking about them made her legs itch, particularly her right one which seemed to itch worse than her left. If she didn’t think Jack or one of his friends might walk up on her at any moment, she’d be more tempted to bend down and scratch it just to relieve the itch, but that was not a good way to make a positive first impression. Even she knew—

“Ella?”

Ella started and an excited shiver ran down her spine at the sound of her whispered name behind her. Slowly, she turned to face the man who’d spoken. “Jack?” she asked breathlessly, then blushed. Of course it was Jack; nobody else here knew her name or would address her so informally. Not that that was the only clue as to who he was. All she had to do was see him to recognize him. He was far more handsome in person than he’d described in his letters. At least six feet tall and wearing navy trousers and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone, offering her a generous glimpse of his bronze skin. His face looked as if it had been chiseled from marble, with high cheekbones and a distinguished jaw, coal black hair that curled at his neck and such dark brown eyes to match. He was breathtakingly handsome by anyone’s standards.

As were the two men who’d come running up behind him.

One had eyes that were either blue or green, it was hard to tell from this distance, coal black hair and a wide grin that must be hard for any lady to resist. He must be who Jack had referred to as Gray. Beside him, was the man who she presumed was Captain Tucker, or Wes as she’d come to think of him. He was an inch or so taller than Jack with a broad build, brown hair and blue eyes. He was also a very attractive man. But neither of them was nearly as handsome as Jack. At least not to her mind and she might be biased, but then again, Wes’ wife, Allison, might be biased, too.

Behind Jack, one of his friends cleared his throat.

Jack jerked as if ripped from a trance. “Ella, I’d like you to meet two of my friends. This fellow with wide eyes and his mouth hanging agape is Captain Grayson Montgomery and this—” he jerked his thumb in the direction of a man who wore an expression of amusement— “is Captain Wes Tucker.”

“Captains Montgomery and Tucker, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Jack’s letters that I feel as though I practically know you both already.”

“You do, do you?” Gray said with an overdone frown. “Interesting; he’s never mentioned anything about you.”

Stung, Ella blanched.

“But then again, why would he have made mention?” Gray continued as if realizing his earlier words hadn’t been as flattering as he might have intended them to be. “Had he announced your impending arrival, dozens of men—myself included—would have been there to greet your stage and fight for your hand.”

She flushed at his compliment and was thankful for it, all the same, as it seemed to evaporate the tension that had begun to choke them all. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Gray,” he corrected. “And now that you know what I prefer to be called, I must take it upon myself to ask who you are since Jack here lacks the manners to complete a proper introduction.”

“Ella. Ella Walk—Davis.” She blushed. She’d been telling everyone she encountered on her trip that she was already married and on her way to meet up with her husband. It didn’t seem as dangerous that way.

“And to what do we owe the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Miss Walk-Davis?” Wes asked, garnering him a jab in the ribs by one of Jack’s elbows.

Ella smiled and tried not to laugh at the exchange. Just as his letter had said, they were like brothers. In the letter, Jack had painted Wes in the most favorable light of anyone of Jack’s acquaintance. Jack had claimed Wes was always grinning and rarely serious. Clearly, he was only teasing her, but for some reason Jack must not find that appropriate for their first meeting. That’s all right, she didn’t mind a sense of humor as long as it wasn’t cruel, and his words certainly held no cruel intent. “That’s just the thing, Captain. I’ve come here to drop the Davis and add an ‘er’ on the Walk.”

Jack grinned at her in a way that would have robbed her of her breath if she wasn’t near breathless with excitement already. “Well, if you all will excuse us, now that you two have made the acquaintance of my future wife, I think it’s time Ella and I have some time alone.”

Wes shot him a glance Ella couldn’t read. “Perhaps she doesn’t wish to be alone with you.”

“Since she still hasn’t added that ‘er’ to her name, yet, she still has time to change her mind,” Gray said helpfully, eliciting a giggle from her.

Jack shook his head. “Sorry Gray, she’s all mine.”

Ella flushed at his possessiveness, then shot his friends a sympathetic smile. Though she knew Wes was already married, she assumed he was just trying to flatter her with his words. Gray, on the other hand, Jack had once termed a shameless flirt. Not that it mattered to her. He could flirt with her from now until snow covered the ground, but it wouldn’t change the feelings she’d developed for Jack from his letters and the excitement that had grown tenfold on her journey here.

“Perhaps they’d like to act as witnesses to our wedding,” she suggested a moment later when neither man had seen fit to part company with them.

“I’d be honored to be a witness,” Wes said quickly.

Jack scowled at him. “We don’t require any witnesses—especially either of you.”

Wes mumbled something about someone who might need a witness after something was discovered. She knit her brow and looked to him to elaborate, but before he could, Jack extended his arm to her. “If you’re ready, I’m sure the chaplain would be happy to make this official.”

Heat crawled up her face, though she didn’t know exactly why. “Of course.” She gestured to her luggage. “Will it be all right to leave those here until we return?”

All eyes went to the four large trunks and three travel bags that had made the journey with her.

“Gray and I can find some men to move those for you,” Wes offered, the corners of his lips twitching.

Ella turned her eyes to Jack, whose face had taken on a light red hue and who seemed to have a slight cough. “That would be very nice, thank you,” she said.

“It’s our pleasure,” Gray said at the same time Jack’s little coughing fit worsened.

“Are you all right?” Ella asked him. She fisted her hands into the fabric of her pale green skirt to keep from patting him on the back and embarrassing them both with such a display.

Jack nodded. “Fine,” he said on a cough, “just a bit of dust.”

Wes chuckled and Gray guffawed.

“Don’t worry, Miss Walk-Davis, the men we find will be sure to exercise great care bringing your things inside,” Gray said with a wink.

Jack scowled at his friend and Ella cleared her throat. “Oh, there’s no need to bring them inside, is there, Jack? The men can just take them to Jack’s wagon.”

“Jack’s wagon?” Gray’s voice wavered on the words as if he were on the verge of laughter. “Do you plan to take her on a ride around the barracks before taking her to see your room?”

Instead of the laughter she presumed Gray’s words were intended to provoke, uncomfortable silence enveloped them all as blood thundered in her ears and every muscle in her body went lax. Take a ride around the barracks? Their room? Did that mean he was an officer, too? Her heart sank. He hadn’t ever mentioned it. She glanced at the uniforms the other men wore. The trousers and shirts looked the same. But both of them had on hats and coatees that denoted their rank. Jack didn’t. There was one way to know for sure. As discreetly as she could, she looked to the side of his trousers. They had stripes. He was an officer.

All of the ramifications of marrying an army officer ran through her mind: harsh living conditions, constant moving, a husband driven to vice and barking orders. Shame and embarrassment washed over her, burning her face like a branding iron as understanding seeped in. She’d been fooled again. The only difference this time was that she couldn’t hie off to hide in a secluded room—she had to face the man who’d done her wrong and in front of his friends at that.

“Actually, I do believe I would enjoy a ride around the barracks first,” Ella said as evenly as she could around the nausea that was swirling in her stomach.

~Chapter Five~

“You lied to me.”

Her blunt words and the ever-so-slight quiver in her bottom lip hit Jack like a punch to the jaw, killing every ounce of excitement he’d previously had. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“Yes, you did. You said—” She broke off with an audible swallow.

“Yes?” he prompted, ignoring the slight hitch in his voice and praying she would, too. “What did I say?”

Ella glanced toward her luggage, then met his gaze again. Her eyes, though they were the most unusual set with one distinctly blue and the other green, were unwavering but full of trepidation. Though he’d only been in her presence for a total of five minutes, he already knew he preferred to see her excited with the light shining in her eyes the way it had a moment ago. Full of excitement, she absolutely glowed, with her porcelain skin and raven hair, bright eyes and red, bow-shaped lips, a real beauty when she was happy. Now she looked guarded.

“Never mind, I see that you didn’t lie to me exactly. You do live in a large home that sits on a considerably larger piece of land that doesn’t need to be tilled, plowed, planted or harvested. It was my mistake to think that the ‘sizable dwelling’ you referred to as home was your house and not a single room in a glorified boarding house.”

The change in her tone suggested she was disappointed. That he could understand, as his harsh living conditions and dwelling place weren’t even desirable to him. The slight quiver present in her lower lip, however, he couldn’t interpret. So he ignored it. “I do apologize if you feel misled, but I never said I owned my own land.”

“No, you didn’t,” she agreed.

Jack twisted his lips; his own annoyance growing. “I didn’t realize that you required your husband to have such assets to be worthy of your promise.”

“I never said any such thing,” she countered, her eyes glinting with what he presumed to be indignation. “Nor is it about your lack of ‘assets’ as you call them. It’s that you purposely omitted the entire truth from your letters.”

“I did no such thing.”

She sighed again and gave a quick glance to Wes, who was studying the wooden planks of the boardwalk under his feet, and Gray, who was casually leaning his left shoulder against a nearby wooden support column and watching Jack and Ella as if their conversation was the most amusing thing he’d seen all year.

“Could you two go find something else to entertain yourselves with?” Jack bit off.

“No,” they responded in unison.

If Jack hadn’t been so distracted by the way his friends just stood there listening, he might have been able to give a bit more thought to whether or not Ella’s lips had just twitched in amusement at his friends’ response as well as whether or not she was still upset with him.

“Ella,” he began as evenly as he could manage despite the awkwardness of their conversation and the audience they had. “I didn’t intentionally mislead you. I’m a man. Correspondence is not something that I give a lot of thought to.”

She winced. “You could have at least mentioned you were an officer of the army and not just a man who worked for the army.”

She was obviously embarrassed about the whole misunderstanding. He could respect that. Though what she had against him being an officer eluded him. It was one of the most respectable jobs there was. Or at least he’d thought so. Apparently she didn’t. “Ella, I’m sorry and you’re right. I should have been more specific. I just assumed when I described my home as a dwelling on a large piece of land and told you I worked for the army that you understood...”

“Of course,” she said quickly. She swiped at the fallen tendril of dark hair that had come loose from her bun and was swaying in the breeze. “You were perfectly clear. It was my misunderstanding.”

A wave of guilt washed over him. She was right. By his failure to be more descriptive in his letter, he lied to her by omission. He just hadn’t realized it would matter one way or the other to her. He opened his mouth to offer an apology, one more genuine than the last, but was saved from having to do so when she spoke again.

“As you know, I have traveled across a large portion of this country with the promise of a husband and I’d like to stay...”

“But?” he prompted, dread settling in his stomach. Her leaving now would be worse than if she’d turned around and returned home once she reached Fort Smith.

She bit her lip, then something flickered across her face and she released her teeth’s brutal hold on her lip and straightened in a way that made her appear to have just grown two inches taller. “I cannot share a bed with a man I cannot trust.”

The guilt he’d felt a moment earlier quickly gave way to another sort of emotion that could cause a man’s face to burn, his heart to slam against his chest and then his blood to drain from his face: fury.

He had no desire to let her know just how much she’d shaken him with her words, nor did he wish to be made to look like a trained animal in front of his friends. He crossed his arms and leaned back against his heels. “Do you think you’ll have such a choice?”

“Yes, I do.” She crossed her arms the same way he had crossed his.

He scoffed. “Perhaps you ought to take a peek in the room we’ll share.”

“And why would I do that?”

“To take inventory,” he said casually. Then he shrugged. “There is only one bed.”

“That’s all I need.”

“And you think you’ll have this room all to yourself, do you?”

She astonished him when she didn’t back down. “No. I know that I won’t. We also both know exactly what I meant when I said that I wouldn’t share your bed. I might be forced to, in a literal sense. Unless, of course, you are willing to exhibit an ounce of gentlemanly behavior and offer to sleep on the floor, which by your past actions and the look on your face, I highly doubt will happen. However, if you think to press me or force me, you should know, Jack Walker, that just because I came all the way here to meet a husband, doesn’t mean it has to be you,” she finished with a glance to where his friends stood behind him.

That sobered him instantly, stealing any other quick remark he might like to make right along with the very air in his lungs. Surely, she wasn’t so upset with him that she’d marry someone else—likely Gray—just to punish him for his quick tongue and lack of details. For if she was that kind, he’d grossly misjudged her, and for a reason he couldn’t name—possibly his pride?—he couldn’t bear such a fate.

***

As if the silence was louder than their conversation, Wes lifted his head up and let his gaze linger from Ella and Jack to Gray. “Perhaps Jack was right and it is time to leave them alone to get better acquainted,” he said softly. He then met Ella’s gaze, which she was reluctant to hold but refused to give ground, whether to Jack or his friends, then he nodded once to her. “If you need anything, and I do mean anything, I’ll be right over there.”

“I think the one she’ll be looking for is me,” Gray said with a wink. “I’ll also be right over there...waiting.”

Ella didn’t know whether to be flattered or mortified by his implied offer. Instead, she nodded her understanding and her resolve strengthened. She truly had no intention of embarrassing either herself or Jack that way, or marrying a stranger she knew even less about in order to give Jack a much-needed lesson. Over the course of their letters, she’d formed quite a fondness for him. Or at least she thought she had. She frowned. How much of what he’d revealed about himself had been superficial or misleading? A lot apparently, as so many of his letters had been relatively short. Except the one he’d written her last winter about his Christmas. But that didn’t mean anything, either. It could have just been part of his ruse. Her heart thudded in her chest. Michaela had been right. He was a master manipulator, and if she needed any more proof, his next words seemed to furnish it and make her doubt her own mind all over again.

“Fine then, if you think you can find another man here who’d like to marry you...” He trailed off and forced a stiff shrug.

Her blood ran cold. Did he already not want her? “I didn’t say that I wanted to marry another,” she said softly to keep her voice from wavering. “I just don’t want to share my body and possibly create a new life with a man I cannot trust.”

Jack flinched as if she’d slapped him, which seemed to be a rather strong reaction when one considered what she’d requested didn’t seem too out of place when one remembered they were virtually strangers. Then he swallowed hard and nodded his head once; his face appeared as hard as stone. “But you’re still willing to marry me?”

She released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Yes,” she choked and then cleared her throat. “But only if you’re agreeable to my terms and promise not to push me.”

Jack’s face softened. “Of course I’ll honor your terms.” He dropped his voice. “All of them.” A grin split his face that could only be categorized as predatory and he added, “As you should know from my diligence in responding to your letters, I don’t back down from a challenge—particularly one as tantalizing as this might prove to be.”

~Chapter Six~

Jack did his best to close his mouth, but the truth was, he was just as shocked by the words that had tumbled out of his mouth as Ella seemed to be.

He couldn’t say why he’d just spoken to her the way Gray might have if he were in Jack’s situation, nor did he care. He’d said it, and strangely enough, he’d meant it. He’d seen the ridiculous way that Wes had courted Allison after she arrived—barely at all, to his mind—surely he could do better and have Ella madly in love with him in no time at all. He was sure of it. Their getting off to a rough start wouldn’t matter soon and one day it would be nothing more than a fading (and possibly amusing) memory of how they first met. Nothing more.

“Are you ready to go make this official?” he asked, offering her his arm.

“A-all right.” When she took his arm, Jack shot a triumphant look over to where Wes and Gray stood, barely out of earshot.

“Chaplain Malone is still over in his shop, Jack,” Gray called in a tone that sounded almost as if there was a slight edge.

Jack nodded and bit back his grin at Gray’s tone as he escorted Ella past them and toward the blacksmith’s shop where Chaplain Malone worked unless he was needed for some ministerial pursuit. Oftentimes, like today, he wouldn’t stop when everyone else did, but would continue to work until dinner.

After they were officially married, Jack would take her to the barracks and show her their room... He inwardly cringed. If she didn’t relish the idea of living in a room she’d so adequately deemed part of a glorified boarding house, she’d certainly be upset when she discovered the size of their quarters and learned that on the other side of a very thin wall was the room where Allison and Wes lived. He swallowed his unease and continued on.

“I hope you don’t mind my friends. They’re just—” Jack shrugged as if he didn’t know exactly how to describe his friends and their irritating habits.

“It’s all right,” she assured him, fussing with a lock of her raven hair with her free hand. “I must confess, I didn’t realize that I’d be meeting your friends so soon, which is silly of course. You did mention that you were close to them...”

Tension crackled in the air as the unsaid part of her sentence hung between them.

“Yes, I did,” Jack said smoothly. “Ella, I am sorry that I didn’t explain the situation better.”

She swallowed so hard he thought she might have swallowed her tongue. But when no choking sounds came from her throat, he knew better. It wasn’t that she was tart-tongued, and of course, he did understand her situation, but still, to his mind, he hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t his fault she’d misunderstood. He’d said he worked for the army and didn’t have crops, and she’d been sending letters to a fort. How could she have possibly misunderstood?

The walk across the field that separated the Lewis’ home, where Ella was dropped off by the stage, and the little shop in which Chaplain Malone worked seemed like three miles rather than the three hundred feet that it was.

When they finally reached the shop, Jack thought he might expire from heat—or be suffocated by the undeniable tension that was still filling the air between them, choking them both.

Three minutes later, the vows were said and it was time for the awkward kiss that would seal their union.

Most men would be put off by the wide eyes and tight lips that presented themselves to him; Jack was not.

He obviously lacked the charm and finesse that Gray oozed in the company of ladies, yet he had no intention of letting her expression deter him from what might be the only kiss he’d be allowed to have for a while. Not that he thought it would be a long time before he was kissing her again, of course. If he kissed her right the first time, it would just make her that much more susceptible to his charm. He liked the idea of that and a slow smile crossed his face at the same time something flickered in her eyes. It wasn’t fear exactly, nor did it appear to be the excitement that shone in them earlier; frankly he didn’t know what it was, nor did he have time to contemplate it when Chaplain Malone’s gruff cough tore him from his trance.

Right. He still needed to kiss her.

Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his lashes until all he could see of her through his slightly parted eyelids were her red lips and bent his head toward hers to capture her mouth in a warm kiss that should melt her resolve.

Their kiss did not ignite a scorching level of passion in her as he’d hoped it would, however.

In fact, their kiss didn’t even ignite that feeling in him.

For just as quickly as he brought his lips to hers and was about to kiss her for the first time, she swiftly pressed her puckered lips to his, kissed him, then pulled away, giving him a chaste kiss better suited for two young lovers meeting behind the barn for the first time than for a husband and wife.

There was no doubting it now. There was certainly something wrong, but damned if he knew what it was. As fluidly as he could in order not to make it appear worse than it already was, he released her and backed away, refusing to meet either Ella’s or Chaplain Malone’s eyes.

“If you two will excuse me,” the older man with bushy brows who’d just ordained this ‘union’ said, snapping his Bible closed, “I need to be gettin’ back to work. I need to finish one last thing before dinner.”

“Right,” Jack clipped. He pulled out his silver pocket watch and frowned down at the time. It would be another hour yet before dinner. “We have plenty to do before dinner, too.”

A loud, obviously over-exaggerated sigh came from the direction of the door and filled the air. “Does that mean I’m too late to dissuade you from marrying him and taking up with me instead?” The light-heartedness of Gray’s tone might have suggested that he was only teasing, but considering the circumstances, nobody laughed.

“I’m afraid so,” Chaplain Malone put in helpfully. “Too bad ya didn’t come a minute ago. You could have seen the kiss. ‘Twas magical, wouldn’t you say, Jack?”

***

Every muscle in Ella’s body grew taut and she bit the inside of her lower lip to keep it steady at the chaplain’s words. She hadn’t intended to pull away from Jack when he’d bent to kiss her; it just happened. One minute she’d resigned herself to the fact that she was about to become the wife of the man who’d deceived her and she needed to put forth her best effort to be amenable; then the next, she was pulling away from him.

Of course, it was partly his own fault. Or rather that of his actions.

Cupping her face with his big, strong hands, lowering his lashes at her as if this was all a very romantic scene, then acting as if he was about to kiss her with all the passion of an entranced lover. It didn’t sway her. It stoked her ire, is what it did. How could he act as if everything was perfectly fine, when it wasn’t?

“Yes, it was just that—magical,” Jack said in a tone that gave nothing away. His eyes narrowed on his friend. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Just to bring you the key to your room.” Gray took a brass key from his pocket and tossed it to Jack.

Jack caught it easily enough with one hand, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I trust you denied your childish urges and didn’t leave any sort of...er...surprise in there for us?”

Gray threw his hands up into the air. “The thought didn’t even enter my mind.” He dropped his hands to his sides and a serious expression came over his face, then he cocked his head to the side. “Though, now that makes me wonder about your childish urges.”

Something happened just then. Something fierce and unknown. Something Ella didn’t understand.

Jack’s face looked different somehow, harder almost, as he tore his gaze away from Gray and turned his attention to where Chaplain Malone was banging his hammer against a thick piece of metal. “Thanks for the wedding, Malone,” Jack said, placing his hand on Ella’s arm just above the elbow. His grip was feather-light, almost as if he didn’t want to be touching her.

She dismissed the thought and allowed him to steer her out of the room and toward the row of log cabins she’d seen from the window of the stage she’d ridden in on.

As they got closer to the log structure, she noticed it wasn’t just the back of one, but there were several that ran together with a little alley between them. An odd sense of nostalgia settled over her. Fort Gibson was set up in an identical manner as so many of the forts she’d been to as a child. Jack led her through the alley that was near the corner. She froze, taking it all in. To her right was the longest two-story log cabin she’d ever seen. To her left was another. And across from her were two more. In its entirety, there were four long rows of connected log cabins, all met at points, forming a large square. At each corner of the square, there was what appeared to be an additional story, giving it a tower-like appearance.

Jack gave her arm a gentle squeeze and then led her across the dirt and the few patches of trampled grass that covered the inside of the square, toward an open door on the other side. She truly wished that he’d slow his pace, for her tired—and itchy—legs were having trouble keeping up, but she was hesitant to ask him. Whatever had happened between Jack and Gray had seemed to upset him and she didn’t wish to upset him more.

“Wh-where are we?” Ella asked when Jack ushered her into a closet-like room that had nothing more than two shabby, but perfectly made beds and a bureau that looked like it had fallen down a half dozen flights of stairs.

Jack chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here in just a few minutes. I need to gather my things.”

“Your things?”

He released her arm and walked over to the bureau that had certainly seen better days. He pulled out the bottom drawer and a large screech filled the air. Startled, she jumped. “Sorry,” he murmured. He pulled out a neat stack of folded garments and tossed them on the bed. “By things, I mean my clothes and personal effects. Don’t worry though, you’ll still have plenty of space in our room to put everything you brought. I don’t have much.” He flashed her a smile that would have made her knees turn to water if she hadn’t been so distracted by the rest of his statement.

“So this was your room, before...”

He nodded, pulling out a handful of small items she couldn’t see very well. Then he sighed and met her eyes. “The room itself won’t be larger than this, I’m afraid, but there will only be one bed as opposed to the two you see in here and we’ll have more than just a shared bureau.”

A bitter taste filled her mouth. “Is a nicer room a benefit of being married?” She supposed she should have known the answer to this already, but she’d been fifteen when her father retired and hadn’t been too concerned with the sleeping arrangements of those who lived at the fort.

He gave her a queer look. “In a manner of speaking, yes. There are too many commissioned officers for each of us to have our own room. There are only four private rooms and about sixteen commissioned officers here at any given time. Lack of furniture and rooms means only the officers who are married receive the private rooms.”

“And the rest share a room with another officer?” she guessed.

“Or three.”

“Three?”

He nodded. “Until Wes married, he was in this room, too.” He tossed down all the items in his hands, which appeared to be a hodgepodge of keys, matches, a few coins and a small picture. “Gray and McCorkle share that bed and Wes and I used to share this one. After he married Allison, I slept alone for a while, but then Raymond Smith came and became my bedmate.” He scowled and reached under the bed he’d just indicated, then retrieved a pair of high cut black leather boots. “Now that I won’t be in here, I have a feeling Gray will exercise his authority as highest-ranking officer and make McCorkle and Smith share a bed,” he said as casual as can be.

His careless tone and easy words agitated her in a way she’d never have thought possible. Was that why he’d sought a wife? To have more room? A private room at that. One where he didn’t have to share such a small space with three others, but only one? As for his co-sleeping, she knew it happened. It was a necessity in many areas of the country. Her own father had told her about it in his stories of the war and his early days in the military. She just should have listened to more of his stories about his life before he’d married, she supposed. No, actually, she didn’t suppose. She had no idea when she came here that she would be living at a fort as the wife of a military officer. He’d only said he earned his keep by work he did for the Army. He never said he was in the Army.

She tried to ignore the crushing sensation in her chest. “And where will our room be?” she asked in a tone that sounded forced even to her own ears.

“Upstairs.” He grabbed his things as best he could, and she almost felt sorry for him and offered to carry something. Almost. Petty as it might seem, she felt used already and had no intention of allowing him to find yet another way to use her presence here as a means to ease his life. “Come, I’ll show you.”

Their room wasn’t far away. In fact, it was close. Directly upstairs, actually.

“Could you uh...”

Ella shook her head and reached into his pocket to retrieve the brass key Gray had given him. Then without hesitation, she opened the door and walked right inside, heedless to his inability to enter without dropping something.

The faded and threadbare green curtains on the far wall were open in the middle, revealing a room with only the necessary items: a four-drawer bureau, a table with two chairs, a tall, open rack with four shelves, a fireplace, a chest and the most basic of things: an unembellished, simple bed that appeared twice as wide as the one downstairs.

“Oh look, Jack, perhaps you and your friends can move into this room and all four of you can share the bed.” The words were out before she could think better of it, and the blank look on his face made her want to laugh. She shook her head and dropped her gaze to where her chests were lined up and stacked just inside the door, her soft-sided traveling bags on top of the bed.

“I know it seems barren right now,” Jack said, pushing into the room. “But I’ve been saving a bit of money each month for you to decorate it however you wish. Within reason, of course.”

“Of course.” She offered him a slight smile. It was the best she could do, considering how hurt she still felt about being led here by lies and snared by her own pride.

As if to show her that they weren’t completely without amenities, he placed his clothes in the first drawer of the bureau, then opened the oak chest that resided at the end of the bed. He sank to his haunches and pulled out a variety of items: tin plates and cups, silver to eat with, a plain basin and mismatched pitcher, and most notably, a chamberpot.

She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he set it down. At least she wouldn’t have to go outside to tend to her needs.

Jack chuckled at her reaction, then went to putting things where he thought they might belong. “If you’ll give me a list of what all you think we’ll need, I can see what Charles has in his store tomorrow.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “Is there a reason you’re volunteering to go? Isn’t it the woman’s duty to shop for the household?”

He didn’t stop or hesitate. “If you’d like to go, I’ll go with you. But it’s probably best you don’t go alone.”

She sighed and twisted her lips. Of course. He must either think of her as a docile creature incapable of anything or be worried she’d discover something else unsavory about him while shopping. She closed her eyes against the tears that welled there and busied herself by unpacking one of her traveling bags.

This is what you wanted. To start over with a man who wants you. She blinked her eyes and rummaged through her bag. But this man doesn’t want me, she argued with herself. He wanted a wife, but not her. She shifted and removed a small leather bag from her traveling bag. In this bag, she kept her most needed items: hairbrush, comb, hand mirror and other grooming necessities. She pulled them out and fingered the intricate designs on the handles. Slowly, she walked them over to the bureau and placed them in a neat little row along the right side, ignoring the two warm tears that had escaped from her eyes and were blazing a path down her cheeks. Not wanting to bring attention to herself, she refused to sniffle but used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes and under her nose. It wasn’t ladylike, to be sure, but it was better than showing weakness.

She pulled a few more items from her bag and mindlessly shifted her weight, allowing her left leg to touch her right. She stilled. She’d been denying scratching this persistent itch practically since she’d climbed into the stage to leave Fort Smith. Biting her lip, she allowed herself to finally “scratch” the itch as best she could, using her left leg to rub that itchy spot on her right. Doing so provided temporary relief from the pain Jack had caused but brought another kind of pain: a physical type. Drat it all, she’d been too vigorous and now her leg was tender—and still itchy.

Sighing with frustration, she grabbed the small jewelry box she’d brought with her and set it down on the bureau with more force than was necessary.

Jack jerked his head around to face her. “Is something wrong?”

She wanted to laugh and almost did, as the crushing weight of the situation she now found herself in threatened to overtake her. “Just a lot to do, that’s all.”

Jack set the stack of plates he was holding down on the table and walked over to her. Catching her hands in his, he startled her but certainly gained her attention. “Not everything needs to be done tonight, Ella. We have plenty of time. Why don’t you just sit and—”

A loud horn sounded and a giant grin came over Jack’s face.

“Come. It’s dinnertime.”

She swallowed. “Dinner?” She didn’t know whether to be relieved that she wasn’t expected to cook on top of everything else or disappointed that all of her plans and expectations of being the one to cook his dinners were dashed in one blow.

Disgust, however, became the emotion of choice when she laid eyes on the bloody chunk of white laced meat set down in front of her.

Much to the amusement of the others at the table with her, she gulped down the bile that had risen in her throat. Beef or pork, she didn’t know, but whatever that was on the plate was not suitable for consumption.

“Smart man,” a man who Ella didn’t even want to look at commented from across the table with a chuckle.

Jack didn’t acknowledge the man but began sawing on the chunk of flesh in front of him.

Nausea overwhelmed her at the sight—and smell.

“Mmmm, beefsteak,” another man commented, licking his lips with his thick, purple tongue.

Ella shuddered and looked back to Jack, who showed no signs of distress or overexcitement at eating his dinner.

“Eat,” he said softly.

“I can’t.”

He set his fork down and looked at her, his dark eyes full of questions and concern. “Is there something not to your liking?”

“Yes. This.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sorry. I know you said that you could cook, but I didn’t think you’d want to your first night...”

Ella stared at him. Was he trying to bait her and get her to agree to cook for him by bringing her here to witness this atrocious meal or was he being genuine? Though she longed to believe the latter, with how the day’s events had unfolded so far, she was more inclined to believe the former.

Hurt and indignation swelled in her breast. “Perhaps if you’d just asked, I’d have made you a meal.”

An irritated expression came over his face, but he didn’t speak.

Not that he needed to, for someone else took the chance to chime in. “I do believe you found a good one, Lieutenant Walker,” the man with light brown hair and light blue eyes said with a whistle. “It took nearly a week of Wes bringing Allison to the trough for her to finally decide to start cooking for him.”

“Shut up, McCorkle,” Jack barked.

Ella’s face heated. Just as she’d suspected, this was another way she’d been used. Not that she’d expected him to have someone to cook for them, because she hadn’t. He’d made it clear in his letters he was looking for someone to cook and do other woman’s work, and she was more than content to do that. But, he could have just asked. Parading her down here in front of his friends and giving her a taste of what they’d eat otherwise, wasn’t a very endearing—nor mature—way of going about what he wanted.

That’s fine. She’d show him she had more meddle than he gave her credit for. “Actually, I was surprised to see this. My father was a general and would ask Ma to make this from time to time.”

All the eyes of the men at the table shot to her as if in anticipation of what she’d do next.

That was fine with her. She had no problem being watched if they wanted to do so. Breathing deeply through her parted lips, she picked up her fork and knife, cut off the corner of the ‘beefsteak’ closest to her, and ate it with the slowness of a true southern belle.

No one said anything as she ate the entire enormous chunk on the plate before her. Jack’s broad grin grew. “You’re right, boys. I certainly have one worth keeping.”

Ella placed her fork down and tried to keep from glaring at him. How convenient that he’d taken advantage of the situation and made it seem as though he’d unearthed the rarest of diamonds.

“Are you ready to empty your pockets again tonight, McCorkle?” Jack asked, picking up his tin cup then draining the contents.

“You’re not going to beat me again,” McCorkle said a bit defensively.

Jack chuckled and winked at Ella, stirring feelings she didn’t quite understand, so she turned her head and chose to ignore him. “Do you gamble much, Ella?”

“No.”

“Well, now’s a good time to learn.” Jack shot a scowl to a grinning McCorkle.

“You intend to teach your new bride to gamble?” Wes asked, coming up behind them.

Jack shrugged. “Unlike you, I have a bit of an imagination when it comes to courting, Wes.”

“And teaching her to gamble is what you’d consider a fitting activity for your wedding night?” Wes continued.

Jack’s face flushed bright red, just as she imagined hers was doing; but she wasn’t inclined to correct Wes’ ideas of what she and Jack should be doing tonight due to their new understanding. Judging by Jack’s set jaw, he didn’t seem too excited at the prospect of the entire room knowing, either.

Jack opened his mouth to say something he probably thought might defuse the situation, though she doubted it would, but was stopped when McCorkle chuckled and said, “Good thing you found her before Gray. He’d know what to—” Crack!

Jack idly rubbed the row of knuckles that had just collided with McCorkle’s jaw. “Be mindful of what you say about my wife.” he barked.

Ella tore her eyes away from the pair, glanced around the table and frowned. “Where is Gray?”

“Resting,” Jack said, his eyes searching hers.

“Resting?” she echoed, confused.

“Now that Jack here is married, he doesn’t have watchtower duties anymore,” the officer on the opposite side of her explained.

“Watchtower duties?” She remembered seeing those tall buildings on the four corners of the barracks and understanding dawned. “Is part of your job to stand guard in the watchtower at night?”

A slow smile came over Jack’s face, almost as if he thought he was about to charm her. “From time to time.”

“Ah huh, and is tonight one of those times?”

He shook his head. “No, my dear. Tonight—and every night for the rest of my life—all I have to stand guard over is you.”

“But tonight was your night?” she asked for clarification.

He frowned. “Well, yes, but it’s hard to protect you and keep you safe while I’m in the tower.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

He returned her stare but said nothing.

Unable to bear his company or that of his friends, who all seemed to know and understand better than she did that he’d married her only to improve his life at the fort, she abruptly stood, her chair screeching and tottering from her jerky movements. Wordlessly, she tossed her napkin onto her plate and did her best to keep as much of her dignity as possible as she fled the room.

This was too much. All he cared about was himself and the benefits this marriage would bring him. She knew a wife was to cook and care for her husband, but Jack took things too far. He wanted her because of the high regard, and dare she admit jealousy, having her as a wife would stir among his men; and worst of all, he needed her for the changes her presence would bring to his living conditions.

“Ella, stop,” Jack called, catching her arm just above the elbow. His dark brown eyes were wide almost as if he were uncertain or innocent.

She wanted to laugh at that notion. Not only was Michaela right about him being a master manipulator with words, he was the best actor she’d ever seen. She willed her tears to stop. Tears didn’t do her or anyone else any good.

“Where are you going?” he asked, releasing his hold on her arm.

“I don’t feel very well,” she blurted, surprising herself at the truth of her statement. That “beefsteak” was the most revolting thing she’d ingested. Ever. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Food around here can have that effect on a man—or a woman—at first.” A slow smile spread his lips. “Let’s go back to our room.”

A sudden wave of nerves washed over her. “You do mean to keep your earlier promise, don’t you?”

“Yes. We’ll play cards. Nothing more.”

~Chapter Seven~

Something had clearly upset his new bride, but for the life of him, Jack couldn’t place what it was. He’d give credit to her reason for leaving the dining room. The food was abominable. It took him nearly two months to be able to choke it down without starving himself first. But the food wasn’t it. There was something more, and he’d be damned if he knew what it was.

Jack pulled out a chair at the table for Ella. “What games do you like to play?”

“The counting game.”

He wanted to groan. Many parents gave their children cards only to help them learn to count. Count the hearts. Count the spades. He didn’t much care for that and knew better than to believe at twenty that she’d care much to play a game that involved looking through the cards and counting the pictures on them. “How about we play a type of counting game?”

“All right.”

Jack grabbed his deck of cards from the bureau and shuffled. “The game is twenty-one and the object is to—”

“Get exactly twenty-one,” she said with a slim smile, “or as close as you can without going over.”

He paused. “You’ve played.”

Ella’s smile grew decidedly more genuine. “A few times.”

“Is this the counting game you were referring to?”

“Yes.”

Jack dealt the cards, one up, one down, and then they both took a moment to look at what they had. He didn’t know her bottom card, of course, but her top card was a ten of diamonds. His bottom card was a Queen and his top card was a nine.

“Hit me,” she said.

Jack dealt her another card and wanted to wince when he saw her next card was a King. He couldn’t hope for much better than a nineteen and flipped his cards to show her, expecting she’d gone over twenty one.

She flipped her card. An ace.

“You win!” he burst out, partially in shock at her winning and partially genuinely happy she’d won the hand.

“I know,” she chirped with a quick grin that caused a tendril of desire to coil in his stomach, then picked up the cards. “I’ll deal this time.”

He sat back and watched her from under his lowered lashes as she dealt. She was a pretty young woman. Long dark hair and tanned skin. Her hands were thin and delicate, but not frail and weak. Her stature and grin spoke of an inner strength most probably didn’t think she had. Perhaps his understanding of it was connected to the way she’d stood up to him earlier and had the gall to ask for time to get to know him before intimacies. She might not think it unrealistic to ask for such a reprieve, but he did. Not that he’d met too many other mail order brides (or their bridegrooms) to ask, but he’d assumed a wedding night was expected just as it was for a wedding that took a year to plan.

It didn’t matter. He’d do things her way. He’d court and woo her until she felt comfortable with him.

She won that hand.

Then the next.

And then the one after that.

“Would you like to play something else?”

She flashed him another of her blinding grins. “No. I rather like this.”

“Of course you do, you minx. You’re rather good.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d say that. It’s more luck than skill, I think.”

Jack dealt this hand. “Then I shall certainly have to take you downstairs to the lounge when you’re feeling better.”

Ella’s grin faltered as she reached for her cards. “Hit me.”

Jack started at the sudden roughness in her tone. Where had that come from?

“Another card, if you please.”

“Right.” He gave her another card, and then at her direction, he gave her another. He lifted his eyebrows at her. She had a four, a two and a seven exposed. She had to have an eight or lower facing the table to not go over twenty-one. “Would you like another?”

She shook her head.

Jack twisted his lips. He had a Jack facing the table and a Queen on top. He flipped his cards over and waited for her to do the same.

“I’m over.” She flipped her card, revealing a ten. “The seven was too high.”

“Finally!” Jack picked up their cards and began shuffling them.

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go to bed now.”

Jack stilled. Bed? The sun wouldn’t set for another hour and a half. “Is something wrong?”

She stood and ran a hand over her skirt, straightening it. “Just tired.”

He nodded. She was lying. Something he didn’t understand had just happened that made her go cold toward him again and he knew better than to believe it was because she’d lost the hand. There was something different about her eyes. They’d lost the spark they’d had but a few moments ago. “All right.” He put the cards into a neat stack then bound them together with a string. He tossed the cards back into his drawer then reached for the metal pail that he’d found in the chest at the end of their bed earlier. “I’ll go get us some water from the well if you’d like to get ready for bed.”

She nodded but didn’t speak.

Fortunately, the well was just down the stairs and about ten feet away. Any further than that, and Jack would have insisted that Ella go with him. Fort Gibson was a rough place. Secluded as it was, it took months to get proper supplies. The closest groups around were Indians. Indians who weren’t exactly content with the United States government at that. Following forced removal, Fort Gibson had been established to help keep the peace between the tribes and anyone who dared travel by. Unfortunately, the circumstances created a gathering place for the degenerates of the Army. Many men here formed addictions to the bottle or a fondness for violence. With so few women passing through, many of the men were so desperate for a woman’s embrace they didn’t care the cost at which they got it.

Jack’s gut clenched. Perhaps Wes and Gray had been right and it was foolish that he’d brought Ella here. He swallowed the bitter thought. It was too late for that now. He’d already acted and she was here—something he’d never wish to change. His job now was to protect her. But did she want to be here?

She hadn’t seemed very happy with him when she’d first learned he didn’t have a house of his own and she would have to live in a small room in a “glorified boardinghouse,” as she put it. Something at dinner had also upset her. Exactly what it was, he didn’t know, but it happened just after mentioning the watchtower. Then again, she’d gone cold when he’d mentioned taking her to play cards with his friends once she was well.

He shook his head and headed back to his room. She hadn’t seemed so temperamental in her letters. She’d seemed...fun and enthusiastic. Not to mention witty and full of excitement. She was tired, he reminded himself. She’d traveled from the far stretches of the country to get here in a journey that took more than two weeks. When his mother came home from her travels, she was often tired, too. He’d have to be patient with her.

Sighing, he opened the door and froze.

There, in the middle of the bed—his bed—was Ella, tucked up under the covers that reached just below her chin, with her head on the pillow and facing away from the window, her fisted hand settled up by her lips.

He set the pail down and closed the door. She looked as if she was sleeping, but just to be sure, he whispered her name.

She didn’t respond.

Wordlessly, he undressed and slipped into the bed beside her, frowning. She was still wearing her gown. He whispered her name again, and she didn’t respond.

He repositioned himself onto his side and reached up to brush the hair away from her face, his frown deepening when his fingertips skimmed her damp cheek.

Tomorrow, he vowed to himself. Tomorrow, he’d get his answers. For now, he’d let her sleep and regain her good humor. Even he had enough sense to know that an angry Cherokee was preferable to the wrath of an angry woman awakened from her slumber.

~Chapter Eight~

It was a new day, and without question, he and Ella needed a new start.

For reasons he didn’t truly understand, Ella was upset with him; and though he didn’t really feel as if he were at fault, he knew just enough to know that sometimes lowering one’s pride and being the first to try to make amends was necessary.

“Ella,” he whispered softly in her ear.

She stirred from where she’d slept right beside him. Of course, that was quite a large part of his motivation in making amends—he could certainly get used to having her sleep in his arms and against him rather than on the edge of the bed. And, preferably, without a thick dress to separate them. He pushed away such lusty thoughts before he gave himself away.

“Ella,” he whispered again.

She opened those eyes of hers that intrigued him so. Both were light in color but different hues.  He’d never seen anyone’s eyes that varied before. Not that it was a bad thing, just different...unique.

As if sensing what he was staring at, she closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids with the tips of her fingers.

“Are you excited to meet Allison?”

Her nod was so slight he would have missed it had he not been staring at her.

Suppressing a sigh at her lack of enthusiasm and swallowing the last ounce of his pride, he said, “Ella, I’d like to talk about last night.”

“Can it wait?”

He rolled up onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, his elbow digging into the pillow, so that he could study her face. But it gave nothing away, just as her tone hadn’t. He was losing patience. She was clearly still unhappy with him, and he was growing just as unhappy with her at a very rapid rate. It would be best for them to talk. Instead, she wanted to lie there. Why? Did she feel she was that wronged by him for whatever reason her mind had come up with?

He clenched his right hand into a fist. “Ella, I—”

“Didn’t spend the night in the watchtower,” she finished for him in a soft and gentle tone that was barely above a whisper.

“No. I didn’t,” he agreed, his blood pounding through his veins. Was she angry with him or was she not? He had no idea what had caused her sudden solemn mood any more than he knew why she was so upset about anything, especially the watchtower. Irritated at her level of stubbornness and blatant disinterest in him, he said, “You’ll be satisfied to know, however, that it is still my duty to make sure all of the horses are fed and properly tended to each morning.” He rolled over and then climbed out of bed. “I’ll be back in half an hour to escort you down to breakfast.” And help you change, if you’d like. But he doubted she would like that, or even care for his mention of it, so he didn’t say it. She’d worn a very simple traveling dress yesterday and he imagined that most of what she’d brought would be similar in style.

To his good fortune, nobody was out yet as he made his way across the inside of the barracks and to the stable. It wasn’t really his responsibility to see to the horses, but that of Stiles, a man under his command. From time to time though, Jack would come in while the boy was working to make sure everything was being done to his satisfaction.

“Morning, Private,” he called, spotting Stiles’ head just over the top of Rans’ back.

“Morning, Lieutenant Walker,” the man greeted in kind. “I’m surprised to see you this morning.”

Jack pierced the younger man with his gaze. “And why is that?”

The boy shrugged. “You just got married last night. I assumed you’d be...” He shrugged again.

Jack crossed his arms. “You worry about yourself.”

“Yes, sir.” Private Stiles bobbed his head twice in understanding, his cheeks growing a light red.

Jack imagined his cheeks had reddened, too, but didn’t want to give this young man any reason to suspect anything was wrong. Whistling, he went over to walk up and down the aisle of horse stalls to see how well Stiles had been taking care of them. It wasn’t the most entertaining thing to do around the fort, but it would at least give him time to breathe and rethink things where Ella was concerned.

Unfortunately, nothing came to mind as he continued up and down the aisle to look in on each horse.

“It looks good,” he said with a slight nod toward the boy after he made his second pass through the stables without seeing anything out of place or having a better idea of what he’d do differently with his wife.

Stiles said something else to him and Jack muttered something in response before checking his pocket watch. For as long as he might like to spend out here trying to puzzle out his complex bride, he couldn’t. He glanced at the time and snapped it closed. It had been twenty-five minutes. That should have given her plenty of time to get dressed, and if she wasn’t... Well, she’d had plenty of time, anything left uncovered would be his good fortune to glimpse. The randy thought he knew better than to have made him speed up his pace. Angrier than the devil or more solemn than the brook that trickled by his childhood home in West Virginia, he desired her. There was no arguing that.

Taking a minute to cool his ardor and regain his composure so not to stoke her ire again and have her create some other obstacle for him to get around, he took a deep breath, then grabbed the doorknob. He released it just as quickly. Though he’d like nothing more than to open the door and glimpse his bride in a state of undress meant only for her bridegroom, if he wanted to get himself back into her good graces, he’d do well to remember the manners his father had tried to beat into him and knock.

So he did.

No answer.

“Ella? Are you dressed?”

“Go on without me,” a weak voice called.

Jack frowned. “I'm not going down there until you're ready. Now, hurry up, or I’m coming in there,” he said as calmly as he could.

“Just go!” she all but shouted.

His frown deepened. Not thirty minutes earlier, she was as quiet as a mouse and as docile as a kitten when she’d spoken to him. What could have possibly soured her mood so quickly? He clenched his fists and sighed. “Ella, is everything all right?”

“Yes. Just go away.” Her voice, which had sounded so sweet and gentle for most of yesterday, even when it was obvious she was vexed or irritated, was now full of annoyance. “Please?”

He shook his head. “Ella, do you need help?”

“No,” she said with just a little too much emotion.

Heedless to her state of undress or distress, Jack swung the door open and stood frozen in the threshold. “Ella, what’s wrong?”

She didn't answer, just leaned her pale face over the chamberpot she held in her trembling hands and gave a colossal heave. She wiped her mouth with a nearby cloth. “Nothing,” she said, not meeting his eyes or even looking in his direction.

His temporary paralysis ceased and he shut the door to their room then walked over to where Ella sat in a chair, his appetite completely forgotten. He sat down on the edge of the bed in front of her. “Can I get you anything?”

She shook her head once, her face still lowered and hovering over the chamberpot.

Jack removed his hat and set it down next to him, then reached forward to push her long, unpinned hair away from her eyes. “You're burning up,” he murmured. The food here was bad, but not that bad. This couldn’t have been brought on by dinner last night. “How long have you felt unwell?”

“Since I woke up.” Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. A shiver wracked her body and the chamberpot shook. Her hands tightened their grip around the painted metal, making her knuckles and fingertips go white.

Jack reached forward and took it from her trembling hands before she dropped it and spilled its contents on them both.

Whether her trembles were a result of her illness or her undeniable embarrassment about regurgitating in front of her husband, he didn't know. Nor did he care. “Why don't you lie down and I'll go see if I can find something for your stomach?”

“That’s all right, I don’t wish to be an inconvenience.”

He sighed. “Ella, I know we haven't exactly gotten off to the greatest start, but I want to make amends and show you that I’m not the villain or manipulator you think me to be.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, she heaved again, spewing the partially digested beefsteak from last night all over the boots he’d polished just yesterday for her impending arrival.

Swallowing the bile that was now rising in his own throat, he forced a grin. “Did that make you feel better?”

“Because it’s out of my stomach or because I think you deserved it?” she asked with a quiver of her lips.

“Either? Both?”

She nodded once, then her face changed. Her cheeks bloated out like they were about to fill again and Jack quickly brought the chamberpot in front of her to spare himself another spraying of stomach contents.

“Thank you,” she said after she vomited again.

Jack handed her a handkerchief. “You’re welcome.” He waited while she wiped her mouth, then reached for the soiled handkerchief. “Why don’t you lie down?”

“But don’t you expect me to spend the day with the other wives cooking and—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, halting whatever other damning words she thought to throw at him. “No. I expect you to lie here and get better.” He shot her a quick grin. “That way you can recover before you cook for me. I’d hate to catch whatever you have.”

Thankfully, she finally seemed to understand his jest and gave him a weak smile. Then she allowed him to help her lie back down on the bed.

For a brief second, he considered offering to help her out of her gown or to loosen the clasps so she’d be more comfortable as she slept; but when she closed her eyes with her head against the pillow, he decided against it.

He grabbed the corner of the pale green quilt and pulled it up to her chin then pushed some of the extra around her.

“Thank you, Jack. I’m sorry that I cannot—”

“Shh,” he said, pressing a finger against her lips. “You don't worry about anything but getting well.” He stood and put his hat back on. “Just lie here and I'll be back shortly.”

***

Ella wanted to die.

Never in her life had she experienced such an ache in her stomach. She hadn't been feeling very well after dinner last night but chalked it up to her frayed and trampled nerves. This morning, however, she was far worse.

She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and cringed at the way her sweat had made her hand damp. Her stomach lurched and she closed her eyes in pain. That uneasy stomach of hers had lurched all day, but now there wasn't so much as a crumb still inside to be expelled. She was sure of it. Sighing, she rolled over onto her side. What must Jack think of her now? Likely, he already disliked her for her sharp tongue and temper fit yesterday afternoon before they married. Then he’d caught her crying when he’d come to bed. She might not have been awake enough to acknowledge him when he came in, but she’d felt him crawl in bed behind her and touch her cheek. His touch, so light and gentle, made her want to cry all the more for what she’d hoped would be waiting for her here: a man who was interested in her, not the drastic living and working improvements her presence would create for him. Then, as if all of those childish things weren’t enough, she’d vomited all over him. She almost laughed at the absurdity, and the look on his face, but laughing only made her stomach roil more.

Doing her best to ignore the queasy feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach, she squeezed her eyes closed tighter and waited for him to return.

“Ella?”

“Hmm?” she mumbled, unable to muster the energy to open her eyelids.

Cool fingers swept across her forehead. “Can you sit up?”

Despite her chill, she attempted to get into a sitting position. “What is all of that?”

A hint of a smile touched Jack’s lips. “I'm not sure exactly. I bought everything Charles, the man who runs the sutler shop, had that he claimed would cure you.”

“What is that?” She wrinkled her nose at the little brown-tinted bottle he pulled from the sack and shook.

“I don't know exactly, but we'll find out shortly.”

Ella cringed. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

Jack shot her a mischievous grin and gave a lopsided shrug. “Don’t worry. It’ll be good for you.”

Had she even an ounce of energy to spare, she'd have rolled her eyes at his insolence. Instead, she sat quiet while he looked around the room for something to put her medicine in.

Finding a little cup on the four-tiered wooden shelf in the corner, he wiped out the dust then uncorked the bottle. He took a sniff and lifted his eyebrows, then poured some of the brown liquid from his jar into the cup before handing it to her.

Without taking the risk of smelling it first, she took a giant gulp and drained the contents in one swift swallow, grimacing.

Jack chuckled. “Did you enjoy that?”

“No. It was the worst tonic I've ever tasted.”

Jack shook his head and took the cup from her, then offered her a few raw peppermint leaves to chew. “Then pray you don't fall ill enough that you have to take the medicine man’s serum.”

“I'm sure I'll be fine shortly.”

He didn't look convinced. “As you already know, last night was supposed to be my turn up in the watchtower, which would mean that today would have been my day off. But since Gray took my turn, I have no choice but to work today since I’ll have to look over my men and his.”

She nodded. That was for the best, actually. There was no sense in him sitting by her bed all morning only to increase their chance of getting into another argument, because they both knew they might be getting along just fine at present, but it wouldn’t take much to kill the tranquility and spark the ire between them again.

“Lunch is served at twelve sharp. How about I check on you then?”

“I'd like that,” she said, shocking herself to discover that she really would like to have him check on her then if he could spare the time. She closed her eyes again. He’d spare the time. His reputation among the others and how they perceived their marriage was at stake. He couldn’t afford to let others know things were anything but wonderful between them. She fisted her hands into the sheets and refused to shed any more tears about it. She was done. Things were merely how they were and she’d have to make the best of it. She just would.

Jack came over to her, fluffed her pillow and covered her with the blanket again. He asked if she was comfortable, and following her mumbled reply, he set to work straightening up the supplies he'd brought in.

Tired, Ella relaxed her body against the soft mattress and barely heard the quiet noises he made and his boot falls leading to the door.  A quick click indicated he'd shut and locked her door, but that was the last thing she'd heard.

~Chapter Nine~

Jack held his chin high as he walked into the large room all of the officers shared, fifteen minutes late. Around him, the air filled with low whispers, snickers and even a whistle or two. Jack ignored it all. Let them think what they wanted. It was better that way.

Not wanting any of the men to know Ella was in their room alone, he’d waited until eight before leaving and walking to Mrs. Lewis’ house to let her, Mrs. Ridgley and Allison know that Ella was tired and wouldn’t be joining them today. He didn’t dare tell them she was sick or they’d be hovering over her until they all got sick. Then their husbands would kill him. Not to mention them traipsing back and forth across the barracks all day to check on her and bring her soup, which would only put them in danger and draw attention to the fact that Ella was there alone. He didn’t want that. Sick or not, some man might still harm her.

Jack forced his best grin but avoided Wes’ gaze as he sat down across from his friend and picked up the stack of papers Colonel Lewis had left on his desk. He read over the lines and cringed.

“Don’t like your orders?” Wes mused with a lifted eyebrow.

“No.” Jack set his papers down and sighed. “There isn’t much worse than having to inventory the ammunition shed.”

“At least we’re not in July.”

That was true. July and August were two of the hottest months he’d ever experienced living here. The weather had grown warm in the summertime where he grew up in West Virginia, but never as sweltering hot as he’d experienced here.

“Perhaps if you’d gotten here on time, you could have already started and would be finished before the sun gets too high.” He shrugged. “But I suppose since it’s the day after your wedding, you’re entitled to a late morning.”

“I imagine that I was out of bed before you.”

A grin split Wes’ face. “I’d wager you’re right about that.”

Jack shook his head ruefully. “Thank you, I don’t need to know anything more.”

“That’s good to hear. I hadn’t planned to tell you anything more.” He shuffled some papers on his desk and signed one of them. “But if you’re ever in need of an explanation when it comes to what exactly happens between a man and woman when they go to bed together, I’m sure Gray would be delighted to fill in the blanks for you.”

Jack was sure that Gray would be delighted to do that very thing. Though there weren’t many ladies who passed through, there was a caravan of saloon girls who came through several times each year accompanied by a few protectors and offering their wares for the right price. The young and inexperienced boys always flocked to them, craving the pleasure they promised. Most of the men who’d been around for a time stayed away, however, deciding it was more important to keep all of their parts firmly and healthily attached rather than take a chance on a disease that would take their very state of manhood away. Except Gray. Gray seemed interested in the girls. All of them no matter their physical appearance. He never could resist a scantily clad lady with painted cheeks and a near toothless smile. The thought made Jack shudder.

He stood, pushed in his chair and righted his coat so he could leave and be about his day. “By the way, just so that you’re aware, I have no need for any explanation. I’ve heard more than enough to satisfy any curiosity I might have had coming from your bedroom.”

***

Nearly four hours later and Jack could still hardly contain his laughter at the look on Wes’ face after he’d delivered his parting statement. He’d known Wes for about two years now. Vaguely, he’d been aware of him at West Point, and then they’d actually become friends when Jack was assigned to come here. Through it all, Wes had always been one with a quick smile and a glib remark. It was good to finally find a way to rattle him.

Lunch was to be served soon, not that he’d be joining the others. He needed to check on Ella. But first he’d stop by the kitchen to see about getting something to take up to her in case she was hungry and wanted to eat.

There wasn’t much unfortunately. Supplies were slow to arrive this far out. Some days, it felt as if the army had forgotten that they’d sent men out here to live and keep peace between the Indian tribes they’d relocated. Their job entailed other duties, as well. They were also supposed to protect the stray traveler who came through. Most times, they were to do this by giving them a full escort to their destination or at least to a safer part of the country, which is exactly why he arranged for Ella to have a personal escort into town. Wes, however, had thought to protect his charge a little differently: by marrying her to keep her safe. In the end, it worked out, he supposed.

Sighing, Jack scooped up a few crusts of bread for Ella to eat. Nothing else looked like it would hold much appeal to someone who wasn’t feeling well and the last thing he wanted was to make her sicker.

“Ella,” he whispered, opening the door. He walked inside and closed the door behind him, then went over to where she lay against the pillows.

“How do you feel?”

A soft groan was her only response.

“It’s time for more medicine.”

She grunted.

Chuckling at her response, he said, “I’m sorry, but it’ll make you feel better.”

She opened one eye a fraction. “Jack?”

“Hmmm?”

“It’s cold.” Her voice barely a whisper

He put his hand on her forehead and swallowed. “No. You’re not cold, sweetheart. Your skin is very hot.” Reluctant to remove his hand from her, he stroked his knuckles across her cheek. “How does your stomach feel?”

“Empty.”

He smiled. “Good. Then the medicine worked. Do you feel like eating?”

A groan was her only response.

“Can you try?”

She groaned again.

“All right, I won’t force you.” He stood and adjusted her covers for her again. “I’ll be right back.”

Accepting her slight nod as understanding, he left.

Water. She needed water. He filled the pitcher, poured her a glass of water, then uncorked the vial of medicine he’d gotten from Charles and poured it into her water. “Here, you need to drink.”

She sat up, took the cup from him with trembling fingers and took a drink. She handed the cup back and lay back down. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, pouring water into the basin. He then took the cleanest handkerchief he had in his drawer, folded it and dipped it into the basin. Once it was saturated, he pulled it out and wrung out some of the extra water.

“This will be cold,” he whispered, bringing the wet, folded cloth to her forehead.

Her body jerked, and then she sighed.

A brief surge of elation shot through him. He’d finally done something right where she was concerned. Not wanting to dwell on it too long and make another mistake, he left her to rest and spent the rest of his lunchtime putting their room to rights.

The afternoon dragged by slower than a caravan of ten thousand people crossing the desert. Or so it seemed.

“Ella,” he whispered again, coming into their room after he’d gotten off work.

“Hmmm,” she said on a groan.

He allowed himself a small smile. She was more vocal than the last time he’d come to see her. That was good, wasn’t it?

“Are you hungry? I brought you some broth from the kitchen?”

She shook her head with wild abandon. “Nooooo.”

“Are you thirsty, then?”

She didn’t say anything but nodded with the same wild abandon.

Shaking his head at her, he walked over to the water pitcher and poured some into a tin cup that was resting on the table. Charles had said the medicine might loosen her up a bit and make her seem a little silly. He didn’t realize how much, though. “Let me help you up,” he murmured.

***

Ella sighed when one of Jack’s large, capable hands slid under her and urged her up. His other hand held a pillow. His pillow. She knew this because it was flatter than hers from the weight of his heavy head. Besides, it smelled like him. It smelled of work and sweat and trees and bushes. Man. It smelled like a man.

Jack shoved that pillow on top of hers. Now she had two!

She tried to lean back, but Jack stopped her. “Not yet. Sit up and drink first.”

She grinned at him. She liked drinks. They were very...tasty. Cool and soothing in summer. Warm and comforting in the winter. Drinks were good.

She reached her hand out toward the tin cup he now had in his hand, but he wouldn’t give it to her.

What was he going to do, help her drink it?

She giggled at the thought. A big, tall, broad man like him helping her drink!

“Slow and easy,” he said, extending the cup toward her.

Instinctively, she lifted her hands to try to take it from him again and hit the bottom, splashing water all over his hand and the bed covers. “Ooooops!”

He set the cup down on the table and removed the wet blanket from on top of her, murmuring something about her not needing it anyway, then poured more water into the cup.

“This time, will you let me help you?” he asked, his voice so soft and tranquil.

All she could do was nod and allow him to bring the cup to her lips.

She brought her hands up to hold the cup but ended up covering his hand instead. That was all right. It was also all right that his free hand was now behind her head, helping her tip it back ever-so-slightly.

What had she done to deserve this treatment, she wondered, looking into his warm brown eyes. He was rather dashing. And strong. Oh, and handsome. Rugged.

He removed the cup and pulled away, giving her a chill as he left.

“Your gown,” he said, his voice gruff.

“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?” She ran her hands down the front of it, straightening it here and there as she went. She had no idea how it had gotten so mussed, but it needed to be perfect in the presence of this gentleman.

He gave her a curious look. “Are you sure it’s comfortable?”

“Oh very,” she said with a small giggle.

“I could just help you undo a few of the buttons.”

She batted at his hands as they reached for her. “Absolutely not! A lady must maintain her modesty!”

The corner of this stranger’s mouth tipped up into the most handsome smile she’d ever seen. “As you wish.” He eased her from the sitting position she was in to lying back against a rather tall, masculine-smelling pillow. Strange, when had this magnificent stranger come into her room? And even stranger still, why did her pillow smell like the outdoors? She could ponder it later, she supposed. Right now, she was so very tired...

~Chapter Ten~

Jack awoke to the terrible sensation of being kicked in the testicles.

Grunting as nausea swirled in his gut, he removed the arm he’d laid across Ella’s midsection after joining her in bed and used his hand to push her knee as far away from his groin as possible.

Just as he did, she hit him again. This time with her hand on the side of his face.

He reached for her arm to keep her from swinging again. It was hot. Really hot. Hotter than skin should feel. She seemed to be doing better, if not a bit silly earlier tonight, so he’d assumed she was getting better. But now she was hotter than she was then. “Ella.”

No answer.

“Ella,” he said a little louder.

No answer.

He reached for her shoulder and shook her. “Ella, wake up.”

She didn’t say anything, but her knee came at him again.

He lifted his own knees to block the blow to his groin again and took a direct hit to the shins. He grimaced and got out of their bed in short order. He stumbled around the bed as best he could, considering the small amount of moonlight that was spilling in through the break in the curtains, then sat down on the thin space of mattress on the other side of her. “Ella, wake up. You’re dreaming. It’s time to wake up now.” He put his hand on her forehead, which felt even hotter than her arm had.

She thrashed at him once more, then stopped.

“Ella,” he tried again, attempting in vain to mask the panic he felt.

Nothing about her form changed.

Heedless to his bare chest and bare feet, he ran from the room and went next door. “Wes, open up!” he called, banging on the door. When Wes didn’t open the door fast enough, he delivered three more swift bangs. “If you don’t open this door, I’ll—”

“What is it?” Wes snapped, yanking the door open with one hand while he held a pillow over his bare waist with the other.

“I need Allison.”

“Excuse me, what did you just say?”

Jack moved to look past Wes to where Allison lay in their bed, her hands clenching a sheet tightly against the top of her chest. He would have been just as embarrassed as the two of them about his intrusion while they were in such a state, but now wasn’t the time for modesty or embarrassment. Ella was in a bad way.

“Something is wrong with Ella,” he said as calmly as he could. “She has some sort of a fever and it’s gotten really bad. I need someone to help me.”

“Then go find the medic,” Wes said, annoyance filling his voice.

Jack shook his head. “No. He’ll want to bleed her. I don’t want her bled. Allison, can you please come look at her?”

She exchanged glances with her husband. “All right. But can you give me just a moment, please?”

Jack nodded and Wes closed the door in his face.

Unsure what else to do for his wife until Allison could come and help him, Jack went back into his room and wet another handkerchief.

A moment later, Allison entered his room, wearing a simple yellow nightgown that peeked out through the middle of a large red robe. Relief he didn’t think he’d feel flooded him. He felt so helpless.

Without a word to Jack, Allison walked over to where Ella lay on their bed.

“Candles,” she said.

Immediately, Jack went about lighting every single one he could find. When he finished, he turned back to see that all of the bedclothes, save a sheet, were discarded from the bed and lying in a heap on the floor and Allison was popping the buttons loose on the bodice of Ella’s dress.

“She needs to be cooled down quickly,” Allison said.

Jack nodded. He’d assumed so but hadn’t wanted to push Ella into removing her clothes, as he thought necessary, only to have her get even more upset and make herself sicker.

Just then, Wes came into the room. “Do you need any more help?”

Jack was appreciative of his offer but shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Allison didn’t argue with his sending her husband away and continued loosening what she could from the front of Ella’s gown. “Can you lift her for me?”

Jack was there and holding where she directed in less than a heartbeat. First, he bent her still, lifeless body forward into a sitting position, where he held her while Allison peeled Ella’s dress from her shoulders and down her arms. Jack moved his hands when needed to allow Allison room to keep moving Ella’s gown down.

When her gown was down and settled about her waist, he lowered her back to the bed and without a word passing between him and Allison, it was he who removed Ella’s gown the rest of the way.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” Jack said quietly, coming to stand by Allison, who was now wiping Ella’s face with cool, wet linen. “I should have done this myself. I didn’t because—” he cleared his throat as the entire room seemed to heat up another degree, or twenty— “I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

She offered him a smile. “You didn’t. Fevers often have to run their course.”

“I don’t mean with her fever,” he said on a sigh, though they both knew she was just being nice. He could have prevented it from getting this bad had he insisted she take off some of her clothes and paid more attention to her. But that was the crux of it. Where Ella was concerned, he was at a total loss.

As if sensing what he was really saying, Allison said, “Just follow your instincts, Jack. That’s all you can do.”

“Everyone thinks I’ve made a mistake and that I keep making it worse...and I’m beginning to agree.”

“Don’t.” She softened her voice. “Just give it time and follow your heart and you’ll do the right thing.”

Follow your heart, that’s what all women said. He shook his head in mild disbelief.

He lowered his lashes to look at his wife’s body without feeling as if he were about to be condemned for looking at her thus, and then he reached to take the rag from Allison. He dipped it into the basin with a quiet Ker Plunk, then ran it down Ella’s arms and around her neck.

Allison’s small smile told him that she approved, even if Ella might not. Then she went to the end of the bed and reached for the top of Ella’s stockings.

“I can get those,” he said. “You just go to bed.”

“It’s all right.” She rolled one long silk stocking down and off, then reached for the other. “You just keep cooling her off. That way when you get down here, you don’t have to mess with them.”

He swallowed the emotion rising in his throat and jerked his gaze from his wife’s bare leg and back to where he was sluicing water on the plane of her chest just above the top edge of her thin chemise.

He swallowed again. The water he’d put on her had rolled down, making the top of her chemise translucent, clinging tightly to her well-formed breasts. He was a man, therefore, the sight of her pink-tipped breasts certainly caught—and held—his attention. At least for a moment, then shame and a tinge of embarrassment came over him when he remembered that they were not alone. He turned to reach for the bed sheet that Allison had saved and his eyes caught on another part of Ella.

Her leg had a spot the size of a rounders ball that was enflamed and bright red. Inside the “ball” was a smaller, open wound. Around the edge, it had a puffy yellow-white layer. The center was gaping open and oozing with a thick, jagged black band encircling it. Whatever this was that was on the inside of Ella’s right calf was the most disgusting sight he’d ever seen and was emanating a smell so foul it could fell a man.

His eyes met Allison’s, who’d just been examining the same thing.

She lowered Ella’s leg. “I know you don’t want him involved, Jack, and I understand why. But this is something more than a simple fever. I have to go get him. I’m sorry.”

Too shocked to say anything or even move, he stood there and watched her walk away. It was all he could do.

~Chapter Eleven~

Jack wasn’t sure whether he should be angry or relieved when Allison came back with Wes in tow.

He’d assumed she’d gone off to find old sawbones, for surely the infection in her leg was bad enough to warrant such a visit.

Jack swallowed uncomfortably and reached for the sheet he’d forgotten about earlier. He pulled it over Ella to hide as much of her as he possibly could. It wasn’t that he thought Wes would desire her if he glimpsed her in such a state, but it was more for Ella’s pride and dignity. She might be unconscious, but when she came to, she’d still need her pride. And he wouldn’t entertain any other thought. She would come to. He was not going to lose her to a fever or an infection. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Wordlessly, Allison led Wes around the side of the bed and carefully lifted Ella’s infected leg.

Wes’ Adam’s apple bobbed as he reached to take Ella’s leg from Allison’s hold. Ignoring the troubled brown eyes of his wife, Wes examined Ella’s leg. He ran his finger around the outer edge, then moved it toward the center. “The flesh is rotting away,” he said flatly.

Jack’s throat constricted so tight he had to fight to catch his breath. “Why?” he rasped between gasps.

“Spider bite,” Wes said quietly, setting her leg back down.

“That’s no spider bite,” Jack burst out. “I’ve had a few spider bites in my life, and I’m sure you have, too. They never do that.”

“Special spider,” Wes said.

Jack scowled. It would be a dead spider once Jack found it. “How do you know?”

“Before you came here, we had a private who had a spot on his arm just like that.”

“Had? As in past tense? As in, he’s no longer here?”

“He’s here,” Wes said grimly, “just not on this side of the dirt.”

Whatever air still left in Jack’s lungs suddenly evaporated and he was once again gasping for breath, his hand seeking Ella’s. He would not let her die.

“What can we do for her?” Allison asked, her calm voice giving Jack hope.

“Yes? What?” Jack barked.

“She needs medicine for the infection before it gets worse or spreads.”

Jack’s heart plummeted. Medicine was not an easy thing to obtain. Just like all of their other supplies, it took months to get here. Ella didn’t have months.

Wes gave him a sharp look. “Jack, why don’t you go wake the medic and see if he has anything to cure this?”

“You know as well as I do that he doesn’t. He hasn’t received a shipment of medicine in over a year. All he uses these days is boiled water. Or his saw,” he choked, grimacing. In the two years he’d been here, he’d witnessed the medic call for three surgical amputations. Of the two who allowed him to cut, both had died from infection. Jack didn’t doubt that the third man’s survival was only because he hadn’t let the man cut.

Wes sighed and thrust his fingers into his brown hair. “Jack, I need to try to clean this out for her and it would be best if you weren’t here when I do it.”

“I’m not leaving.” His tone so hard he almost jumped himself. “I’ll boil the water for you and I’ll even hold her still if she begins to wiggle around, but I’m not leaving her.”

Jack thought Wes might argue with him again but was apparently too annoyed to do so, for all he did was mutter something and shrug.

Jack squeezed Ella’s hand once more, and then despite the others in the room watching him, he kissed her brow and whispered a promise in her ear. One he had every intention of keeping.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked Wes, straightening.

“Boil water.” Wes turned to his wife. “Go to our room and get all of the clean cloth you can find; also bring two cups, my penknife, and a jar of salve.”

Jack would have mentally kicked himself for not having more supplies on hand if he’d not been so worried about building up the fire. Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he’d go see Charles and buy everything Ella could ever need to make this place a home.

He gathered a few partially charred logs that had been left from the last inhabitant of the room and built a teepee out of them in the center of the fireplace, saving the one that had the most splinters coming off in every which direction. He peeled apart the last one, making a small pile of kindling. Then he pushed the little stack of shredded wood underneath the teepee of logs he’d created.

Just then, Allison came in and handed Wes the supplies he’d requested.

Jack swallowed the burning bile in his throat at the idea of what might happen next and lit the fire, then put his pail of water close so the water would boil.

Behind him, Allison whispered something to Wes that Jack strained to hear. But he couldn’t. He stood and faced them, and immediately their voices went quiet.

“Jack, I’m not a medic,” Wes said as he ripped apart a bed sheet. “I don’t know if this will save her or not.”

Jack nodded, his body numb.

“The only reason I’m agreeing to try is,” he continued, “like you, I think her chances are better if we treat it without involving the medic.”

The unspoken final part of his statement hung between them. If Wes’ method didn’t help Ella, they’d have to take her to the medic and let him try to save her by amputation.

When the unmistakable sound of water boiling broke the deafening silence that had settled over the room, Jack walked to the fire, grabbed the handle of the pail and plunked it on the table. “Proceed.”

Jack watched carefully as Wes went about cleaning Ella’s infected spider bite. He tensed and winced as Wes scrubbed a rag dipped in boiling hot water over what he imagined to be tender skin. After cleaning it off initially, he dipped his knife into the hot water, then cut away at the black skin that circled the area that had been eaten away until bright red blood bubbled around it.

Were she anyone but his wife, Jack didn’t think he could have remained in the room. The initial sight of her wound, complete with broken and decaying flesh, was bad enough, but watching his friend cut more off was not for a man with a weak stomach.

As Wes removed more of the infected skin, Allison followed his murmured commands to pour water into one of the cups and mix something in with it. He said a few other things, but Jack couldn’t hear him very well for Wes’ voice was low and Jack’s blood was pounding in his ears at a steady pace.

“Cup,” Wes said, taking the cup from Allison and giving her the knife.

After she took the cup from him, she picked up two pieces of clean linen and held them on either side of Ella’s wound while Wes poured the liquid over it.

Ella made no sound or movement, worrying Jack even more. He might have believed that she wasn’t affected by Wes’ cuts because the skin was already dead, but her lack of reaction to having a scorching liquid poured into her wound only served to rouse his fear.

Wes finished pouring the liquid and began rubbing something from a jar on her leg.

Jack jerked his eyes away. He knew Wes was only touching her so he could treat her, but seeing another man touch his wife didn’t sit well with him. However, if he wanted Ella to heal, he had to resist his urge to punch the man.

“Jack!”

Jack snapped his head up to look at a grim-faced Wes. “Yes?”

“I’ve done what I can for her right now. I’ve cut away as much of the dead skin as I dared without making it worse, cleaned the wound, and put a thick layer of salve an inch or so outside of the worst part. I have no idea if that will help or not, but it might slow the spreading of it. You’ll need to clean it again at least twice tomorrow, but for now, leave it uncovered so the air can get to it.” He moved out of the way so Allison could position the sheet to cover Ella’s other leg and her thighs, leaving her infected calf exposed. “With any luck, she’ll recover. It doesn’t look like the bite has been there long. Just a day or two.”

“A day or two?” Jack echoed in shock. “It looks like it’s been there a month and got infected from too much scratching.”

Wes shook his head. “No. That looks like a bite from one of those fiddleback spiders. They’re brown with markings that look like a fiddle on their back. It only takes a day or two to get like this and three or four to make it incurable. If not treated right...” He trailed off, but everyone understood his meaning.

A day or two. That would mean she was bitten last night or sometime during the day when she’d arrived. Either way, it had happened while she was in his care or coming to meet him and that made another round of emotion—one stronger than the last—take hold.

Lost in his own self-loathing thoughts, he continued to idly stroke her burning forehead as if to soothe and comfort her, and possibly try to express his remorse in a way he didn’t know how. This was his fault. If she hadn’t come, she’d have never been bitten. She’d have been alive and healthy on her plantation. It wouldn’t be so grim, he supposed, if when she’d arrived she’d been excited to see him and to start their lives together. Instead, all they’d done was quarreled.

He’d make this up to her. He would. He’d make everything right. But first, he just needed her to get well. Then, he’d do whatever it was that she asked him to do—even if he didn’t like what she asked. He had to convince her that coming here wasn’t a mistake. Unfortunately, everything as of now said that it was.

As if sensing Jack’s thoughts and need to be alone, Wes cleaned up his utensils and softly clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Just keep it clean, if Charles has some alcohol for sale that would help the most.”

Jack nodded. He’d be there waiting for Charles to open tomorrow.

“As the infection clears, her fever should go down, Jack, but I’m sure you know that she’s just as likely to succumb from fever as the infection. You must continue to keep her—”

“I know,” he said in a tone so raw with emotion he barely recognized it as his own.

“Would you like Allison to stay and help?”

Not trusting his voice again, he shook his head, praying they’d both see in his eyes how thankful he was for their help.

~Chapter Twelve~

“What a surprise to see you twice in one week, let alone so many times in just as many days, Jack,” Charles said as he unlocked his shop.

“I need a few more things.” What all he needed other than alcohol, he didn’t exactly know. “Do you happen to remember last summer when Wes came in here after marrying Allison and bought two crates full of items?”

“Sure do,” the man said, nodding his gray head. “You want the same?”

“Yes. Except double the alcohol he ordered.”

The old man laughed in a way that made his entire body shake from his wide shoulders to his big, round belly. “Are ya havin’ trouble with her warming yer bed?”

Jack stared at the insolent man. Ella was having no problem warming his bed right now, at least not in a literal sense. He’d tried to keep her cool throughout the night, but her skin felt no different this morning when he’d left than it had when he’d gone to get Wes and Allison last night. “Just get me the supplies, please.”

“I’ll have them delivered to your room by three this afternoon.”

Jack nodded. “Very well, but can I take the alcohol with me now?”

Charles eyed him askance. “You’ve never come looking for liquor in here before.”

“Do you make it a practice to question all of your customers?”

“No.” Charles popped a cigar in his mouth and lit it. “Only the ones who I know will amuse me with their answers.”

Jack’s jaw clenched. “Just give me a bottle of your strongest liquor, please.”

“Not too strong, though,” Charles cautioned with a chuckle. “You want to still be able to—”

“The strongest you have,” Jack cut in, staring the man down.

Charles removed his cigar from his mouth and blew out a thick cloud of smoke just inches from Jack’s face, then handed him an amber bottle from under the counter. “There you are. I guess you won’t be needin’ a sheath then, eh?”

Jack ignored the man’s raspy chuckle and made his way back to where Ella lay, waiting for him. Let Charles think what he wanted. Jack’s pride could care less what Charles or anyone else thought was going on between the two of them. All that mattered was Ella.

He returned to their room and began gathering the supplies needed to clean her wound, pausing when he heard a soft sigh fill the air.

He looked up to see Ella fidgeting in the bed, her beautiful, unpinned, hair covering the pillow.

“Ella?”

Her eyes fluttered open and stared at him as if she were trying to place where she’d seen him before. She blinked her eyes a few times, then closed them again.

Pushing away the tinge of disappointment at her not having more of a reaction to him or even recognizing him, he went about preparing to clean her wound. When he had everything laid out, he walked over to her and took a deep swallow to steady his nerves. “Ella?”

No response.

For the best, he supposed. At least if she was sleeping, she wouldn’t feel the pain.

He took a deep breath and reached for the liquor he’d bought from Charles. With one last glance at Ella’s face, he began to pour the liquid over her wound.

“Aaaaah!” Her leg kicked wildly, planting her knee right in his jaw.

Clenching his jaw, he put his hand above her knee and used just enough pressure to keep her leg still, but not hurt her.

“Stop!” she wailed, now kicking at his hand with her other foot.

He repositioned his body so that his chest was leaning over her thighs, pinning her legs to the bed. “Just a bit more,” he said raggedly.

“No. No more. Stop, you brute,” she cried as she struggled against his hold.

Suddenly a fist hit him in the back. Then another and another.

He chanced a glance at her but quickly turned back to avoid a fist in his eye. “I know it hurts, Ella,” he said softly, hoping his voice would soothe her, even just a little. “I’m sorry, but I have to clean it. We’re almost done.”

He didn’t know whether she heard him or not for her cries and sobs continued, making his chest hurt just as much as he was apparently hurting her leg. But it couldn’t be helped and he continued to talk to her as he wiped away the excess alcohol around her wound.

When he was finished, he straightened and ran his gaze from the gaping hole in her leg to the wrinkled chemise that was bunched around her waist then up to her tear-stained, bright red cheeks. Her eyes were shut now, but he wasn’t sure if she was asleep or not. She’d likely worn herself out with her cries and thrashing. He righted her chemise as best he could, then sat down beside her.

“Ella?” he whispered quietly, brushing the hair from her forehead.

She didn’t answer and he sighed. She might not like him at the moment, and truth be told, she didn’t seem overly enamored with him before he’d dumped alcohol on her open wound; but if it would save her life, he’d gladly take her kicks and screams and punches to the back. He mindlessly ran his hand to a spot on the back of his shoulder where she’d delivered a blow and a small smile touched his lips. It was actually tender and a small knot was forming. Good for her! She was a fighter after all.

***

After their...er...incident earlier in the morning, Jack waited patiently for her to awake from her slumber so he could prove to her he wasn’t the monster she thought him to be. She might not be able to actually place who he was, and he couldn’t fault her entirely for that. They’d barely shared company before her fever. However, he was certain he didn’t want her to recover equating his image with that of great pain. Hopefully as her leg started to heal, it wouldn’t be so painful when he cleaned it.

He picked up a piece of torn sheet and folded it into a square. He hoped his presence wouldn’t disturb her, but her skin was very warm and it might make her feel better if she was cooled off. He dunked the folded cloth into the basin of water at his side, then sparing her as much modesty as he could, he took his time running a cool cloth over her exposed skin. Her skin was so warm, it only took a few minutes for the cloth to lose its coolness, prompting him to rewet it with each part of her he covered. When he finished with her feet, he started over, making sure to spend the most time on her forehead and neck.

After he completed his second pass over her body, she began to stir. He waited quietly a few minutes to see if she was truly awake.

Her series of partial grunts and groans gave him hope.

“Would you like some water?” he asked softly.

She nodded with what might have been vigor had she more energy.

He helped her move up in the bed and get into a position that would allow her to drink, then extended her the cup.

She wrapped her hands over his where they were still holding the cup for her, then tipped the cup back a little too far as if she were trying to guzzle it all at once—the way someone would do if they’d just been handed water after being left in the desert without any.

He muttered a curse. He should have offered her water earlier, before cleaning her wound. Never again, he promised them both. Never again.

When she’d emptied the cup, half in her mouth, half on her chemise, he refilled it and offered her more. Which she took greedily before falling back asleep.

Around noon there was a knock on the door.

Glad for the company, Jack opened it to reveal Wes holding a plate of food. “How is she?”

“Better. I think.” He glanced at his sleeping wife. “I cleaned her wound this morning and she’s come awake twice now to drink some water.”

Wes nodded and handed him lunch.

Jack ate in solitude, but not before wetting every cloth he had and laying them over her body. Midway through the meal, he soaked them all again for they’d grown quite warm, then continued eating after he’d reapplied them.

The afternoon passed similarly to the morning. Ella woke up a few times to have a drink, but said nothing more, then went back to sleep.

Dinner arrived in much the same manner as lunch had, but Jack couldn’t eat. He’d been watching her wound all day and had seen absolutely no significant change. Of course, that might be because he’d been staring at it and not allowing any more than a moment or two to pass before looking at it again. Had he not seen it all day, he might be able to make a better assessment. He lowered his head into his hands. He needed to clean it again, and now would be the best time since all the soldiers would be eating and unable to hear her screams.

***

The second round of cleaning had been just as unbearable as the first.

She’d kicked.

She’d screamed.

She’d hit.

She’d flailed.

She’d even tried to bite him.

Then, she’d fallen back asleep. Exhausted.

Covering her with wet cloths again, he left the room to go get more water.

At least that’s where he planned to go.

But instead, his feet took him in the direction of the fellow he saw sitting in the shade: Private Brian McGraw.

Brian wasn’t someone that Jack was overly familiar with. He answered to Captain Cross, who was under General Ridgely. He only knew Brian because he was the sole person who’d ever survived any kind of infection under the medic’s care. Well, not exactly. The medic had wanted to amputate, and McGraw refused. Everyone was in shock when he limped out of the medic’s office and even more surprised when a week later, his limp was diminished and he reported for duty, claiming his infection was gone.

It was. But he’d refused to explain how it had healed.

Nobody had questioned him too much about it, likely because everyone had an assumption that they didn’t want confirmed. But Jack didn’t care what Brian had done or what he might have to do, he just wanted to know.

“Afternoon, Private,” Jack greeted, walking up to where Brian was reclining against a tall post beam that helped to support the boardwalk of the second floor.

“Lieutenant,” Brian said with a quick salute.

Jack couldn’t care less about being saluted and the proper respect due him. He wanted answers. “How’s your leg doing these days?”

Brian started. “It’s doing fine, sir.”

Jack nodded. “It was a nasty cut, wasn’t it?”

Now it was Brian who nodded, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Tell me,” Jack pressed. “Just how did you get that cleared?”

“Sir, I think I need—”

“Tell me,” Jack repeated. “That’s an order, Private.”

Private McGraw bit his lip. “I—I don’t think you really want me to say.”

“Did you go see the Indians?” Jack asked softly, putting voice to the suspicion he believed many of the men had but didn’t want to investigate.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I saw Dark Moon.”

Jack nodded. That was all he needed to know. Not that he could do anything about it. Venturing into the Indian Territory was so dangerous it was unheard of.  The Indians, he’d learned, had a special way of doing things: their way or no way. Upset with the United States government and all who were connected to it for forcing them here, they had no qualms or remorse for acting unkind. When they wanted to be friendly, they’d come to the fort to trade or even schedule dances to show peace between them. But, that was on their terms. A soldier didn’t dare go into their land without an invitation or at the very least without some sort of warning—and even then he’d better have a good reason, such as the monthly visits they were required to make. And that was just dealing with the chief. Dark Moon was undeniably his own man.

A legend in these parts. Not because his medicines had cured so many, but because he was thought to be a raving madman. The rumors they’d heard were that even his tribe didn’t keep company with him. He lived off by himself, mixing potions and herbs, then came around the fort every so often trying to sell them to the soldiers. The problem was, nobody knew what ailment he was trying to sell a cure for. He knew not a word of English. He just shouted at them in his native tongue while he thrust abysmal smelling tonics in their faces.

Jack filled his pail at the well and walked back to his room. Dark Moon was not a viable solution to Ella’s problem.

“Jack, I need to speak to you.”

Jack turned from where he was unlocking the door to his room to find a very unhappy looking Colonel Lewis. “Sir?”

“Where were you today?”

Jack’s fingers tightened around the handle of his pail. “I was tending to my wife today,” he said evasively.

“I don’t remember approving your request for time off to spend with your new bride,” Colonel Lewis said sternly.

“No, sir.” He held the man’s gaze.  How much did he dare divulge to Colonel Lewis? If he said she was merely ill with a fever, Colonel Lewis would insist that Jack return to work tomorrow to allow her to rest. If Jack told him the extent of Ella’s illness, Colonel Lewis might insist on following protocol and send her to the medic. He didn’t want that. He at least wanted the chance to help her recover. “May I request such days now?”

Smiling, Colonel Lewis shook his head. “Do you have a good reason to need them?”

“Yes.”

Colonel Lewis lifted his eyebrows.

“She’s not feeling well. She’s sick and I thought it would be best if I tended her until she was better.” He forced a shrug. “This is a new place for her, after all.”

Colonel Lewis nodded once. “I can understand that, I suppose. Do you think she’ll be well enough tomorrow?”

“No,” Jack said quickly.

The colonel’s eyes narrowed on him. “Just how sick is she, boy?”

“She has a high fever.” He silently prayed that Colonel Lewis wouldn’t insist he take her to the medic to be bled, but it seemed safer than to tell him about the infection in her leg.

“Perhaps Mrs. Lewis should look after her, then.”

“Allison has been helping me,” Jack informed him.

“I see.” Colonel Lewis crossed his arms. “All right. You may have two more days of reprieve. Then, you will report back to your post or take up residence in the stockade.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack watched his superior walk away. To some, Colonel Lewis’ order might seem heartless, but Jack knew better. Colonel Lewis always tried to be fair even if it meant bending the rules when nobody was looking or suspecting. Jack really had four days to spend with Ella because two days from then would be the routinely scheduled two-day reprieve that all men, save the cooks, who were on a rotating schedule, received.

A little more hopeful that the time granted him would be adequate, he went inside to tend to Ella.

~Chapter Thirteen~

Pain. Dull pain. Sharp pain. Burning pain. Crippling pain. It consumed her.

Fire was racing up Ella’s leg and getting worse by the second. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, for she hadn’t the energy to scream.

This was not the first time she’d been jarred awake this way, though she desperately hoped it’d be the last.

She didn’t know exactly how many times she’d had fire—real or imagined—consume her leg, but there had always been someone in the room with her when it happened. And unfortunately, he never seemed interested in extinguishing the flames.

The man was with her this time, too.

Tall and handsome and undeniably strong...oh, and heavy, she thought, as he laid his lean body over her legs, blocking her view of the flames that were engulfing her leg.

He spoke to her then, but for as much as it hurt, she just couldn’t care. She hadn’t even an ounce of energy remaining to combat the torture he was exposing her to.

She just wished the fire would consume her completely...

***

Jack sighed, fell into a chair and dropped his face into his hands. It had been a sleepless three days and Ella was only getting worse.

The frequency and length of her time awake to drink or get more comfortable had diminished. So had her fight when he’d cleaned her wound. A wound that was getting larger with each passing day. It had been hard to tell at first, but it couldn’t be ignored now. It was growing deeper and spreading out. Each night he’d cut back the large black band of skin around the edge until it bled only to have to do it all over again the next night. What had started out the size of a silver dollar was now the size of a grapefruit and the putrid smell, which could only be detected at close proximity before now, filled the air.

It was time to clean her wound again, but he feared he lacked the strength. Not because she was so aggressive in fighting him, just the opposite. Why this morning, she barely seemed awake when he’d been pouring the alcohol on it. Then, she’d only woken up twice today for water. About two hours ago, he’d been so worried about her getting dehydrated that he’d held her mouth open a bit and dripped water inside.

He’d only gone out for more water when he knew nobody could catch him and ask about her, lest the Colonel find out how bad she was and demand Jack take her to the medic.

What would it matter now, he thought as he squeezed his face with his hands. He’d been taking care of her for three days and nights now, and she was only worsening.

Through the gaps in his fingers, he stared at the grooves in the wooden floor.

“Jack?”

Jack sat up. “Come on in, Wes.”

Wes came inside holding another meal that Jack had no intention of eating. “How is she?”

“Worse.” He took a deep breath and showed Wes her leg. “Can you help me clean it again?” Jack asked, handing Wes his last ounce of pride with those words.

Wes set Jack’s dinner down on the table and examined Ella’s leg. “Have you been using the alcohol?”

“Yes.” He picked up the bottle so Wes could see which kind and how much he’d used. “I’ve been cleaning it only twice a day. I didn’t want to do it too often and stop the healing.”

“I don’t think I can do anything for her that you haven’t already done.” Wes’ tone was strange for it held no emotion. “She needs medicine. Medicine that we don’t have.”

But I know where to get it. The thought startled him. He might know where to get it, but it didn’t mean that it was safe.

“Jack?”

Jack started, then cleared his throat. “All right. I’ll keep cleaning it.”

“She’s had this fever a long time,” Wes commented, walking up by her face. He placed two of his fingers on her neck. “Her pulse is weak.”

“I know,” Jack croaked. He knew all too well. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but this afternoon he could no longer deny how slow her pulse had become.

“Have you—” Wes swallowed hard— “the medic might have something to help her...”

All the blood in Jack’s body rushed to his head until all he could do was stare straight at his friend, a red haze of fury clouding his sight. “How dare you even suggest such a thing?” he hissed.

“Jack, be reasonable,” he argued, his voice full of ragged emotion. “She’s very sick and she’s only getting worse. You can’t keep—” His voice broke off, but his meaning was certainly there.

“There’s a way to save her,” Jack fired back, barely believing the words himself. “I just have to go see the Indians.”

Wes put his strong hands on Jack’s shoulders. “Jack, listen to me. You’re very tired. You haven’t slept in days and now you’re spouting some nonsense about going over to see the Indians.”

“It’s not nonsense.” Jack pushed Wes’ hands off of his shoulders. “Brian McGraw told me it was something he got from Dark Moon that cured him last spring.”

Wes sighed. “We can’t go over there.”

“No. You can’t go over there. I will go wherever I damn well please.”

Wes caught his arm. “I don’t know if McGraw is telling you the truth or not, but do you realize that you could be killed by one of your own men if you get spotted making your way there or back?”

“Not with Gray in the watchtower.”

“You’ve been giving this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” Wes said, sobering.

No, he hadn’t, but now that he’d started talking about it, it all fit into place. He could do this. He could try this final thing to save her life. Then... No, he wouldn’t even think of it not working. It would. “Gray has watchtower duty tonight,” Jack started. “If I tell him that I’m going, he can be in the northwest tower.”

“So that ensures that you can travel away from our fort and back to it, but what about the land they can’t see, or worse, the Cherokee’s land?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s a chance I must take.”

“What’s a chance you must take?”

Jack whirled around to see the bluish-green eyes of Gray.

That was all right. He’d have to know part of their plan anyway, but the owner of the voice who’d asked the question didn’t: Colonel Lewis.

Wes and Jack exchanged looks and Gray and the colonel let themselves into Jack’s room, their eyes falling on a lifeless Ella.

Jack stiffened as they assessed her, nobody speaking.

Colonel Lewis was the first to speak, his voice raspy. “Is she?”

“No.” Jack winced at the roughness of his voice.

“I didn’t realize her fever was so bad,” the older man said.

“She has an infection,” Jack admitted. “It’s bad.”

Gray let out a low whistle when Jack gently lifted Ella’s leg to show the others the infection that had now eaten such a large area of the side of her calf.

“How did she get that?” Gray asked, not a hint of condemnation or humor in his voice.

“Spider bite.”

Colonel Lewis grimaced. “I’ve seen that kind only once before. Nothing heals it.”

“She hasn’t succumbed yet,” Jack pointed out.

“And do you have some sort of plan?” Gray asked.

“Yes.” Jack said, the same time Wes shook his head and said, “No.”

“Well, which is it?” the colonel asked. His eyes went back and forth from Jack to Wes. “You say yes, and you say no.”

Jack cleared his throat. “I do have a plan, but...”

“But?”

“I need to do my plan alone.”

“I see,” Colonel Lewis said slowly. “And just what is this plan?”

The room went silent. Deathly so. Did Colonel Lewis know that he’d been talking about sneaking off when the sun set to go get a serum from Dark Moon?

“Is it something foolish?” Colonel Lewis asked.

“This is Jack we’re talking about,” Gray said. “Of course it’s foolish. If he’d thought half a step ahead—”

Jack lunged forward, grabbed Gray’s lapels and slammed him against the far wall with enough force to rattle the room. “Shut the hell up, or I’ll shut you up!”

Something flickered in Gray’s eyes and he shoved Jack off with enough force that Jack nearly lost his balance. “You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

Jack’s blood pounded in his veins. “Get out!”

“No.” Gray widened his stance and Jack lunged at him again; but Gray was ready this time and threw a punch.

Jack deflected the blow and took a swing at Gray, narrowly missing.

Gray’s face went red and his eyes narrowed on Jack from where he looked at him through a window of two raised fists. Jack was in the same position, ready to make his move.

The colonel said something, but Jack couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring in his ears. He took a step to the side, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Then it happened. Gray took a swing meant for Jack’s jaw, and Jack ducked and punched Gray square in the gut. Gray grunted in pain and, gritting his teeth, launched for Jack, taking them both crashing to the floor. Jack fought to hold Gray off of him so he could better his position, but Gray’s strength matched his own. He struggled to roll them over to give him the top advantage as the scuffle continued when suddenly two strong hands came down on him and yanked him up.

“Stop it,” Wes barked. “This is not helping Ella.”

The blood drained from Jack’s face along with any fight he had left in him. Wes was right, this wasn’t helping Ella. He shook off Wes’ hold and crossed his arms.

“What’s your plan, Jack?” Colonel Lewis asked.

Obviously the colonel had no plans to leave until Jack revealed his plan. “I need to go see Dark Moon. Private McGraw said that’s who he went to get the serum to heal his infection.”

The room that was already silent grew eerily more so. Memories of a naked man named Dark Moon yelling and thrashing about at dances and trying to sell them foul smelling serums filled Jack’s mind, and presumably those of the others in the room.

“You think this will cure her?” the colonel asked a few moments later.

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “But if I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself.” He watched Gray get off the floor and then turned to look at Wes, who wore a stoic expression. To each of them, he’d failed. Neither of them thought he could be a good husband. Young and ambitious, he’d longed for a wife. They both seemed intent to dissuade him, calling it foolish for him to bring a woman here to be his wife. He’d wanted so badly to prove them wrong. But now that didn’t matter. All that did was curing Ella. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “She’s my wife. I’ve made my vows to her. I need to do everything I know to do to keep her safe.”

“And if you get killed tonight going over there?” Colonel Lewis challenged.

Jack swallowed. “Then at least I died trying.”

“Do you plan to go alone, then?” the colonel asked.

Jack’s palms grew clammy and he opened his mouth to answer when suddenly someone else spoke, “No, I’m going with him.”

~Chapter Fourteen~

“No,” Jack said with conviction, trying to hide his sneer.

“No?” Gray and Wes echoed.

“Why on earth would you want to go alone when Gray has offered to go with you?” Wes asked.

Jack forced a stiff shrug but knew he failed miserably to look indifferent. “I’d rather go alone.”

“Why?” Wes asked without ceremony.

“Because she’s his wife,” Colonel Lewis concluded.

Jack nodded. That was the majority of it. Ella was his wife. Her safety and wellbeing were his responsibility. He also didn’t wish to be berated the whole trip there and back over his foolishness in advertising for a bride. He knew now that his part in all of this was not as innocent as he once thought. But that didn’t mean he wished to be reminded of what an awful husband he was. He had more important things to fill his mind with at the moment.

As if reading his mind, Colonel Lewis spoke, his voice soft and devoid of any condemnation. “Nobody is blaming you for her infection, Jack.”

“He is,” Jack snapped with a pointed look in Gray’s direction.

Gray threw his hands into the air. “I never said that, but as long as you want to throw accusations around, I will admit I think you are a fool to have placed an ad for a bride.”

“I’ll go alone,” Jack cut in, too irritated to be triumphant in his assertion of Gray’s feelings toward him.

“And get yourself killed?” Gray scoffed.

Jack bristled at Gray’s overwhelming doubt. Until recently, they’d never quarreled over anything of any consequence, but for some reason, Ella’s presence here had changed their friendship somehow. “I don’t intend to get myself killed.”

“Yes, because venturing unannounced into an Indian camp at night is the safest thing one can do besides riding a pony.” Gray’s tone dripped with annoying sarcasm.

“The truth is,” Colonel Lewis started before Jack could retort, “it’s not safe to go alone, and if this fool is willing to go with you, you’d be best served to accept his offer.”

Jack glared at Gray. “Fine.”

Colonel Lewis nodded approvingly. “Very good. Now that we have that settled, Wes you stay in here with the ladies and I’ll take a night in the watchtower.”

All eyes turned to the colonel. Never, not even once, had the colonel taken a night in the watchtower.

“Gray, you go secure you boys some horses along the northwest boundary. Wes, go collect our wives and bring them here. Lucile was showing Allison some new stitch on the quilt she’s making or some such nonsense. They should be ready by now. I’ll go tell Lieutenant Francis that I’ll take his position tonight.” He turned for the door, then turned back. “Oh, and Jack, change your clothes. You smell like a dead skunk.”

Despite himself, Jack cracked a faint smile.

Two hours later, the sun was setting and Ella’s pulse was still there. Weak, but present.

As decided earlier, Gray and Jack crept out the south passage. It would be easier to leave undetected that way since all of the men would be in one of the lounges they had set up for cards and dice.

Once outside the barracks, they made for the spot where Gray had tied two horses earlier.

Wordlessly, they each untied a stallion and mounted.

Jack had only been at Fort Gibson for two years, and in that time, he’d never heard of anyone going to the Cherokee’s camp without having an official reason. Well, except apparently Brian McGraw. But if he could go there on his own and come back alive, there was hope for Jack.

Jack urged his horse to pick up speed. Their fort was a good ten miles from the Cherokee camp.

Time was lost out in the open air, just as it always was when he rode. Prairie stretched out all around. Neither flat nor too terribly steep, there was a slight roll to the grassy landscape. The further north they rode, the more trees they encountered. Not that he’d never seen trees here before, he had, but they just didn’t grow near the fort with the same thickness as they did this far out. Perhaps it was because trees were cleared to build the fort. He shook his head. He was starting to think about unimportant nonsense to help the time move quicker.

That was a good thing though, he supposed.

“Do you know what you’re going to say to Dark Moon when we get there?”

“No.”

“Jack, I don’t think ‘give me your medicine will work’.”

“I know that.”

“Do you want me to talk for you?”

Jack fingered the edge of his reins and glanced over at his friend. All he could see of him in the last glow of sunlight was his shadowed face. “Thank you for offering, but no. I don’t know what I’ll say, Gray, but I’ll think of something.”

“Well, just remember to be nice in your request. I’m rather partial to my hair.”

Any other time and Jack might have chuckled.

Instead, they plodded on in silence, broken only by the steady tattoo of their horses’ hooves hitting the ground and their heavy, rhythmic breathing.

“Why did you come?” Jack asked.

“You mean other than to satisfy my curiosity about what happens after I die?”

“Yes, other than that.”

Gray grunted. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to make sure your wife got the care she needed.”

Jack eyed him askance. “In a way, yes, because I believe you don’t think I’m capable.”

“Do you blame me?” Gray burst out. “Last year, after Allison arrived, you spoke so casually about her, saying you could ‘use’ a wife.” He made a sound of disgust. “How else were we all supposed to take those words? You could ‘use’ a wife? Women—no matter who they are—are not meant to be used, Jack. After an announcement such as that, what was I supposed to think of your ability as a husband?”

Jack gritted his teeth and clenched his reins a fraction tighter. “I’m not using Ella.”

“Good. Make sure that you don’t.”

Jack snorted. What a change that was. Gray was the one who had no problem sampling the wares of every trollop who passed through yet thought to lecture Jack on using women. He was about to point that out when something bright flickered through the trees ahead: fire.

Both men slowed their horses. They were still too far out to have reached the main camp. This had to be one of their hunting parties, full of savage men waiting for a chance to kill. It wouldn’t do to charge into their camp and startle them; then they’d attack for sure.

Whirrrrr—pffft.

Jack and Gray came to an abrupt stop, both eyeing the arrow that had just flown past their faces, narrowly missing their noses and sticking straight into the tree to their left. Then slowly, they turned their gazes to the right where a man who wore an array of necklaces with beads and claws and had a piece of leather tied around his waist stood. His bow was poised to shoot again, making it perfectly clear that this time, he wouldn’t miss. Not that Jack thought he’d missed by accident last time. It was probably a warning shot.

Panic filled Jack’s chest and his skin crawled. He lifted his hands into the air to show the man that he had brought no weapons with him and meant him no harm.

Gray did the same.

Keeping his stance, the man motioned for them to get down.

They did.

Keeping their hands lifted above their heads, they were ushered forward to his camp, which consisted of a sizable fire and a small group of half a dozen men who sat around it.

Given a large parcel of land, the Cherokees had more room than most to move their camp when they needed to follow the food. Often during summer months, small hunting parties like this would form.

Around them, words swirled that sounded more like caws and crows, sounds mostly. But it was their language. One he didn’t understand.

Nor did they seem to understand him.

“Dark Moon,” he said to the man who was now pacing around them. “Dark Moon.”

The man paid him no mind, shouting words that they couldn’t understand at them.

Jack’s only response was to call for Dark Moon.

The man yelled another string of words foreign to Jack.

Jack and Gray exchanged hopeless expressions.

“Dark Moon,” Jack shouted again. Through the years of trade, there were several of them who understood English, albeit not a lot, but apparently none of them were in this group. Surely they’d recognize the name he was calling.

Suddenly, four men ran up behind him and Gray, bound their hands together with a coarse rope, and dragged them backwards toward two large trees.

They hoisted him and Gray up into the air and tied them to the tree with ropes around their middles, leaving their feet to dangle a good three feet above the earth.

The impending doom finally set over them. This was it. Whatever torture they might pick to inflict on Jack and Gray was about to ensue. Or perhaps not yet. Maybe part of the torture was to tie them to the tree and make them wait for the physical torture to begin.

Either way, this was not how he wanted to die.

The vile string of curses escaping Gray’s lips only confirmed he felt the same.

In one last attempt to be heard, Jack opened his mouth and bellowed, “Daaaaark Mooooooo—”

He was quickly silenced with a hard jab in his side.

He gasped for breath and let his eyes wander the crowd where a young man not much younger than he came forward. “Stop shouting Dark Moon,” he said in soft, broken English. “He crazy. They think you crazy, too.”

“Well done, Jack,” Gray muttered sarcastically.

Jack ignored Gray and regarded the man. “We need to see him.”

The young man nodded and started speaking in his native tongue. He turned back to Jack and Gray. “You want to kill him?”

“Kill him? No. We need medicine.”

The boy was expressionless as he turned back to the others and began to communicate with them again, gesturing to Jack and Gray occasionally as he spoke.

A split-second after he stopped speaking, Jack had a sense of falling. Then he hit the hard, root-covered ground with a painful thud.

Gray joined him with a grunt a split-second later.

Jack pushed to his feet and made eye contact with their savior. “Thank you,” he said softly.

The man pushed his matted hair from his face, then made a “come here” movement with his hand.

Jack and Gray obeyed.

“We need to see Dark Moon,” Jack explained again. “We mean him no harm.” He lifted his hands and gestured to his waist where his gun belt generally hung but was visibly absent today. “We just need medicine.”

“Come.”

Jack followed him, and Gray was right behind Jack.

“Why you need medicine?”

“My wife is very sick. She has a bad infection and a high fever.”

“Dark Moon help.”

“I hope so,” Jack said, following the man to where they’d had to desert their horses.

“We ride.”

Gray’s gaze shot to Jack’s. There were only two horses and three men... Someone would have to walk, or share a horse.

The uncomfortable tension between the men grew when ‘Saving Grace’, as Jack would forever think of this man for his saving interference, hopped onto Gray’s horse.

“Come,” Saving Grace commanded, then nearly lost his balance and toppled off the horse.

Grimacing, Gray mounted his horse behind the other man. “If you breathe a single word of this to anyone at the fort, I’ll marry your widow.”

Jack took his meaning and grinned at him as he mounted his own horse and followed.

Twenty minutes later, a large teepee came into view and they slowed.

Saving Grace clumsily dismounted and walked over to talk through the leather.

A minute later, a man wearing nary a feather, save the ones on the ends of the braids that stopped just above his naked waist, emerged.

Jack immediately jerked his gaze to the man’s face. “Medicine,” he blurted.

“Aaaaah,” Dark Moon said. He lifted his hand and gave a jerky gesture for them to enter.

Without hesitation, Jack went in. It took a minute for a slow-moving Gray to join them.

Dark Moon didn’t seem to understand English very well other than the word medicine.

Jack turned to Saving Grace and tried to explain what he needed.

When Jack mentioned the spider bite, the man’s eyes tripled in size. He immediately turned to Dark Moon, and Jack wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined, but it seemed the man started speaking faster.

“Aaaah,” Dark Moon said, getting up from where he’d been sitting on the floor. He walked over to a table that was covered with countless jars and picked up a few. He sniffed one, dipped his finger into and tasted another, and then shook a few others. He then poured this one into that one, then dumped it into another and shook it.

Jack watched the man in something akin to awe. How did he know what to mix and how much only by looking and sniffing? Not that it mattered. It didn’t. All that mattered was Ella recovering.

Dark Moon set his concoction down on the table, then grabbed a small leather pouch. He opened it and sniffed. Then seeming pleased, he picked up the jar of mixed ingredients he’d set down a moment before and thrust both items into Jack’s face.

Jack took them and softly thanked the man, accepting another little jar of paste he didn’t recognize.

The man seemed irritated by Jack’s response and started making shooing motions toward the door.

Jack and Gray were out of there with no further delay.

“We go now,” Saving Grace said, this time mounting Jack’s horse.

Gray shot Jack a smug smile.

On the way back to where Saving Grace was camping, he explained to Jack what to do with the medicine and tea he’d been given.

By the time Jack arrived back to his room, however, his hopes for Ella’s recovery weren’t so high when he was informed she hadn’t woken or stirred once, her skin was even hotter, and her pulse had grown weaker.

He woodenly walked over to where she lay lifeless on the bed, covered in only a sheet that was soaked through. He knew it was foolishness to hope the sheet was wet from her sweat. The reality was that Allison and Mrs. Lewis had probably had to remove her old chemise and had placed a soaked sheet over her to keep her as cool as possible while still keeping her covered.

“Hold on, Ella,” he whispered, kneeling by her side and brushing a kiss on her temple. “Just a while longer, please.”

Fortunately, Wes and Gray had the good sense to stay out of the room while Ella was in such a state of undress. Jack was thankful, however, that Allison and Mrs. Lewis stayed to help where needed.

He asked Mrs. Lewis to start brewing the willow bark tea Dark Moon had given him for Ella’s fever. For her part, Allison wiped Ella’s leg as best she could, then gave Jack a reassuring nod when he began to apply the liquid to the center of her wound and the paste around the blackening edges.

Jack winced and grimaced each time he touched her. She might be sleeping deeply, but he knew she’d be hurting if she were still awake. What he wouldn’t give to have her yelling at him now.

Just as he finished applying the medicine, Mrs. Lewis put the lid on a pot of steeping tea then pulled down a cup.

Jack put the medicine away in order to save the rest for the series of applications that needed to occur over the next three days as instructed.

“I didn’t make the tea too hot,” Mrs. Lewis said.

Jack nodded his understanding. “Allison can you help me?”

“Of course.” She reached forward and helped Jack move Ella into a position that would allow the liquid to flow down her throat.

When Jack was satisfied that he wouldn’t choke his wife with the tea, he took the cup from Mrs. Lewis and poured a little into her open mouth, then massaged her throat to help work the liquid down. Saving Grace had said half a cup would be enough, but a whole cup would be best, leaving Jack reluctant to settle for any amount less than the entire cup. He didn’t care how long it took to help her drink it. He’d do what he must.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lewis, Allison, for cleaning her up while I was gone and for—” he took a hard swallow— “and for helping me.”

“You’re most welcome, Jack,” Mrs. Lewis said.

Allison offered him a small smile from where she stood combing her fingers through Ella’s hair with one hand and running a wet rag over her shoulder and the top of her chest with the other. She looked tired. They both did.

He wanted to tell them to go on to bed but didn’t wish to seem rude. He was spared when, a few minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door.

Mrs. Lewis answered it, then came back to announce that Gray had taken over in the watchtower for Colonel Lewis and she was on her way to bed.

Jack nodded, relieved. “You can go, too, Allison.”

“A-are you sure you don’t need me? I don’t mind and I know Wes won’t mind if I stay.”

“No. Go.”

With one more look back at Ella, she walked to the door.

“Jack?”

Jack turned to look at Wes, who stood with his hands in his pockets and his eyes trained on the floor. “Yes?”

“We can stay if you’d like to rest.”

“No, that’s all right.”

Wes sighed. “You won’t be any good to her if you die of sleep deprivation.”

“I know.” He turned back to Ella and straightened the sheet over her. “I’ll take a little nap once she finishes her tea.”

“Be sure that you do,” Wes said with a shake of his head. “If you need us, we’re just right there.”

“I know. Thank you.”

~Chapter Fifteen~

Savannah, Georgia

Michaela closed the door to the room she’d shared with Ella with a soft tap. It had been close to three and a half weeks now since Ella had gone to stay with Aunt Charlotte in Richmond, and their father was beginning to comment about the lack of correspondence.

Michaela, however, wasn’t too concerned. They might have never spoken about it, and it might have hurt Michaela’s feelings just a bit that Ella hadn’t confided in her, but two girls who had shared a room their entire lives were unable to keep secrets. There wasn’t any way to avoid it; which meant that unbeknownst to Ella, despite her best efforts to hide it, Michaela knew her sister had never gone to stay with their aunt but had traveled west to become a mail order bride instead.

And just now, their father was learning the truth.

Michaela tiptoed to Ella’s old bed, which was located in front of the window that overlooked the drive, and watched as Aunt Charlotte disembarked from her carriage. Anticipation built in Michaela’s breast. Pa would be furious. First at Ella, then at her.

She squeezed her hands into fists and licked her lips. He could be angry all he wanted, but Michaela knew the man’s most damning secret; one he likely wouldn’t want anyone else to know, and if he’d like to keep it that way, he’d better keep his temper in check.

Aunt Charlotte had disappeared from view now, which could only mean one thing: she’d reached the door.

At first, there was a deafening silence that seemed to fill the house, presumably only because Pa hadn’t laid eyes on Aunt Charlotte yet—

“What do you mean she never came to visit?” Pa’s booming voice echoed throughout the house.

Michaela couldn’t hear her aunt’s answer and didn’t relish the thought of sneaking down the stairs to overhear the conversation. She had little doubt her father would be up in her room to demand answers in a trice as it was.

When she’d first seen Aunt Charlotte’s carriage coming this morning, she’d briefly entertained the idea of hiding down by the pond, or in the cotton fields, or even in the street—the little area of cabins and clapboard houses where the field hands lived. She’d dismissed the idea of course. Pa would only be angrier if he had to come seek her out. It was best to face his wrath now rather than later. Of course, she wasn’t a complete featherbrain and knew it would be safer if he at least came to her room—a place where she often felt more comfortable and could hold onto her strength—rather than to present herself to him down in the entryway like a sacrificial lamb.

“Where’s Ella?” Pa demanded, swinging the door to Michaela’s room open.

Michaela swallowed and looked directly at the man. He was exactly six feet in height and as broad in the shoulders and chest as a whiskey barrel. He’d been a general for six years before leaving the army four years ago to return Ma to the plantation she’d loved so dearly. She’d died suddenly only two years later, but he’d stayed. Unfortunately, being a plantation owner hadn’t softened him and made him more relaxed as Ma had hoped it might. Instead, he was still the same imposing General Samuel Davis who treated his daughters as if they were men under his command in the army.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t know where Ella was at the moment.

Pa crossed his arms over his chest. “Where did she go?”

When worded that way, his questions were a little harder to evade. If she said west, it would be the truth, but it would also be belligerent—an attitude her father didn’t approve of. She took a deep breath and replied, “She answered an ad to be a mail order bride.”

Pa’s moss green eyes blazed into hers and his nostrils flared. “Why didn’t you tell me this, Michaela?”

She licked her lips again. “I wanted to wait until I heard from her.” She was certain that Ella would send her a letter once she arrived. It was only because of that, that she’d never stopped her sister from going or told Ella that she’d found her hidden letters.

“Why would you do a foolish thing like that?”

“B-because I wanted to know that she was safe and happy before I told you.”

“And if she’s not?” he barked.

“Then, I would have told you that, too.” Though she’d prayed nightly that Ella would find a good man on the other end of those letters, she had every intention of traveling to Fort Gibson and reclaiming her sister if she read one letter containing bad news.

“What if she cannot write, Michaela? What if her husband is cruel to her and will not allow her to write letters? Or worse—” his voice cracked— “she was hurt along the way.”

Unease settled over Michaela. She’d never considered that.

“I take it you haven’t heard from her, then?”

Michaela shook her head. It was all she could do.

“How long did you plan to wait to hear from her before informing me of this—” he waved his hand in a circle— “deceit?”

“Two months.”

“Two months could have been too late,” her father snapped. “Hell, right now it could be too late.”

“Two months seemed a sensible amount of time,” Michaela countered with shaken confidence. “I needed to give her enough time to arrive and post a letter.”

“Just where was she set to be arriving?”

Michaela let out a deep breath. She might as well tell him everything she knew. “She was on her way to meet a man by the name of Jack Walker. He works for the army over at Fort Gibson in Indian Territory.”

For the first time in her entire life, Michaela witnessed her father’s stony face crumble to dust right before her eyes. “May God be gracious and generous with his protection of my daughter.”

“Pa?”

“Not now, Michaela. I’ve got to go instruct Naaman to ready the carriage.”

~Chapter Sixteen~

True to his word, by choice or coincidence it might never be known, Jack fell asleep shortly after Ella finished her tea.

It could be suggested by the way he woke up in a heap on the floor that it had not been by his own accord that he’d slept, but he’d slept all the same.

Running his hand over his tired face, he used the other to grip the edge of the bed and push to his feet, where he caught sight of Ella and was suddenly paralyzed.

Her eyes, still not open, had movements behind the lids. He reached forward to touch her forehead. Relief like he’d never known before rushed through him. She wasn’t as hot as she’d been last time, and best of all, she was showing all the signs of being alive. Not just alive, but healing.

He lifted his palm from her forehead and trailed his fingers down to her neck to check her pulse.

It was then that she shifted and made a sound of annoyance.

He pressed his hand against her skin, hoping to annoy her more.

It worked.

“Ssssstop,” she slurred.

Elation shot through him. Then he set his eyes on the medicine he’d brought with him. He was supposed to apply it three times during the daylight hours and once in the middle of the night. She wasn’t going to like this; of that, he was certain. Best get her to drink the tea first. Otherwise, she might refuse.

Jack brushed her hair away from her face and let her rest while he set out to heat some water.

“Can you sit up for me?” he murmured.

Ella grumbled, but Jack continued to help her sit up, noting how her eyes were still closed.

“Do you feel like opening your eyes?” he wondered.

She gave her head a slight shake.

“That’s all right, you just rest.” He finished with the tea and brought it over to her. “I have some tea for you to drink.”

“Tea?”

“Yes, I made you tea.”

She grumbled something, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“Drink.” He lifted the cup to her lips and helped her take a drink.

Praise be, she didn’t protest and took a swig.

Then a second. Then a third.

He tipped the cup back for her. Clearly she thought she was dying from thirst. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so happy to drink the tea. He could hardly tolerate the smell and couldn’t imagine being made to actually put it into his mouth. When she was finished, he looked at the empty cup and shuddered.

“Would you like some water?”

She didn’t say anything but made herself more comfortable in the bed, then drifted back to sleep.

He held his breath and waited for her breathing to become steady, which he’d realized was an indication of a deep sleep.

Reaching for the medicine that rested on the table beside her bed, he whispered an apology. What he was apologizing for exactly—the pain he was about to inflict, the pain she’d already suffered, his part in this whole mess, or perhaps all of those reasons—he didn’t know.

Holding his breath and saying a silent prayer, he poured the liquid in her wound. Pleased in more ways than one that she started shifting and fidgeting when he did so. Then he applied the paste...

***

A tinge of pain yanked Ella from her dreamless state. Thankfully, it wasn’t as horrific as the pain she’d felt at an earlier point in her life, but it was still pain. Her leg jerked of its own accord to escape whatever it was that was touching her.

Just then, a gentle hand fell on her knee, stilling her.

“Just a little more.”

She nodded and the dull pain began to ebb, allowing her to rest a while longer.

***

Jack dropped his folded piece of cloth into the basin of water on the bed then reached for his pocket watch. He checked the time and grinned. Only twenty minutes until lunch. He’d been watching Ella’s leg all day, and though he couldn’t be positive, it looked better than it had last night. But just to find out whether he was living in a daydream, he planned to ask Wes.

If anyone had ever told him that one day he’d be inviting another man to look at his wife’s bare leg, he’d have shoved that man’s teeth down his throat.

He shook his head and turned his attention to Ella, who was stirring for the fifth time this morning.

“Would you like some more to drink?” he asked her. At her nod, he poured her some tea from the pot then moved to help her sit up a little. He’d rotated between giving her tea and water when she woke. The tea, it would seem, was not a very well-loved option for her. He brought the cup to her lips and said, “Here we go.”

She took a sip.

Then immediately spit it back into the cup.

He chuckled. “Sorry, sweetheart, you have to drink it.” He lifted the cup to her lips again.

She moved her face away.

He twisted his lips into an overdone smile. “It’s not so bad. Besides, you liked it last time. In fact, you said it was the best drink you’d ever had,” he lied, hoping that would make her want to try it again.

She did and grimaced.

Biting back a smile born purely of elation that she was drinking the tea and not because he’d just tricked his wife into believing a lie, he coaxed her to continue drinking. “Just a little more.”

Ten minutes later, the tea was gone and she was resting again.

***

Ella thought the pressure in her abdomen would be the death of her.

As it was, it was invading her rest and making her want to double over in pain.

Suddenly, there was a warm hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes. Not much, just enough to look at the offending hand. The arm it was attached to had a thin patch of long, wiry black hairs just above the wrist.

She blinked, but the hairs were still there. Why was a man touching her?

Never mind that, her abdomen hurt almost like she needed to...

Abandoning all pride, she wiggled around, calling for the chamberpot.

The man—whoever he was—grabbed the requested item then turned to face her, his incredibly handsome face as red as a fresh apple.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll lift you—”

“No. Turn,” she slurred, making wild movements with her arms.

He didn’t turn but moved down her body until he got to her waist.

She twisted, trying to clench her muscles. She had no idea when she’d consumed so much water, but apparently she had for her insides were threatening to burst because of it.

He placed his hands on her hips and she groaned, in too much pain to be truly embarrassed, but still knowing it was not proper for a strange man to be seeing her thus.

“Hold still for a moment,” he said, in a voice as soft as velvet.

But she couldn’t. She was at a loss to explain exactly why she was unable to still her movements. He seemed a trustworthy sort if he was helping her this way, but her body still acted of its own accord.

Both of his strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her...then he let one hand go and moved something...then a sheet came over her lower half....then he was back at her side.

“I’m going to lift you up.”

She looked at him in horror. He was going to hold her in position while she took care of her business?

She shook her head and clenched her legs together. She was not going to do that in front of him. She cocked her head to the side. She’d seen this man before; she just didn’t know where.

That didn’t matter. His presence at such a time was completely inappropriate.

“Here, I’ll turn around,” he murmured. He repositioned his hands so that he was facing the wall behind her while still holding her over the chamberpot.

She waited a long minute but could hold it no longer, then closed her eyes and pretended he wasn’t there.

***

At dinner time, Colonel Lewis escorted Mrs. Lewis over to Jack’s room to check on Ella and bring her a bowl of soup. Jack was glad for the change and thought Ella would be, too.

When she woke up after they left, he even got her to drink two cups of the broth and a half of a cup of the tea before going back to sleep.

He ran his hand over her forehead, noticing how her skin, though still warm to the touch, was nothing like it had been yesterday or even earlier in the day. He allowed himself a smile and busied himself with fluffing her pillows and keeping her comfortable.

“Jack?”

Jack’s head shot up. “Allison!”

“The door was unlocked...” She shrugged and lifted the stack of folded linen in her arms. “I just took them off the line.”

Jack smiled at her and moved to take the neatly folded stack of Ella’s chemises from Allison. “She’s still wearing yours—”

“She is?” Allison’s eyes got wide with what appeared to be horror.

“As a matter of fact, yes she is.” Jack grinned in a way he hadn’t in what felt like a long, long time. This morning, Allison had brought over a new chemise for Ella and had taken the pile of discarded ones to launder. They both assumed she’d need a new one before lunchtime, but she hadn’t. “She’s woken up several times today.”

Allison nodded slowly, her face softening as she took his meaning. “Then she’s getting better?”

“I believe so, yes.” He cast a quick glance at her leg, which he’d covered with a light sheet. “Her periods of alertness are lengthening and her speech—and stubbornness—is returning. I expect by day’s end tomorrow she should be strong enough to give me a sound tongue-lashing for not taking better care of her.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Allison said, beaming.

“Yes, it is,” he said with confidence. He didn’t care about the impending confrontation that might take place between the two of them. He’d be thrilled that she knew his name. But it was best not to get ahead of himself. She still hadn’t seemed to recognize him.

“Well, I’d best be going. If there’s anything Wes or I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I will. Thank you. And thank you for—” he lifted the stack of chemises in his hands.

“You’re welcome.” She went to the door, then paused. “Oh, and Jack, I think you’ve taken wonderful care of her, and when she wakes up, I’m sure she’ll think so, too.”

~Chapter Seventeen~

Ella was so tired of being tired. She vowed to stay awake long enough to at least speak to the man who’d been haunting her dreams.

She opened her mouth to speak to him but was unable to find her voice. Instead, she just nodded when he offered her a cup, then drank greedily.

“Thank you,” she croaked in a cracking, scratchy voice that reminded her of her grandmother.

“You’re welcome.” His voice was so rich and smooth compared to hers.

She scowled, and for some reason, the handsome man at her bedside chuckled.

She scrunched up her nose and twisted her lips into a snarl, making him laugh again.

Defeated, she covered her face with her hands and fell back against the pillows. This was not how she’d hoped the conversation would go, but now that it had already turned sour, there was no reason to stave off her own personal mortification and deny herself comfort. She dropped her hands to her sides and swallowed the gravel that was lodged in her throat. “Could you help me?”

He paused in whatever task he’d been doing with regard to her sheets and turned his full attention to her. “Yes?”

She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his deep, brown eyes as she asked this. “I need—” she pointed to the painted white metal bowl across the room.

His smile seemed to irritate her, but the mortification caused by his amusement at her request seemed far better than the mortification she’d face if he didn’t help her and she... Her face heated in embarrassment at the thought.

“Don’t,” he whispered, running his hand through her hair.

A few minutes later, she was ready to wander back into the black abyss of rest and forget all about how he’d just helped her with such a private matter.

“Ella?”

She sighed but refused to open her eyes and look at him. “Yes?”

“How did you know I’d help?”

“You always do.”

There was a brief pause, then, “So you know who I am?”

“Yes, the man of my dreams.” She shook her head. She’d meant to say in, in her dreams, but was too tired now to try to correct her mistake and fell asleep.

***

Jack stood frozen. He was sure she hadn’t meant it that way, but... He raked his hand through his hair and tried to put it all together. Was he really the man she’d dreamed of marrying? Or was she seeing him when she woke up and then dreaming about him? Considering the situation, it must be the latter circumstance. He sighed. How unfortunate she didn’t remember his name or that they had not only met, but were married.

He lowered himself into a nearby chair. At least she’d remembered him and that he’d helped her before. That was a start.

The afternoon passed quickly, with Ella waking up every hour and a half. Each time, he hoped she’d remember him or give him a clue about what else she remembered, but she didn’t seem as interested in him as he was in her. He scrubbed a hand over his face. She still wore Allison’s chemise. After she’d told him that she remembered him, and possibly had recollections of her other brief snatches of being awake, he’d been reluctant to have her change her garments. Likely, she’d protest or be uncomfortable around him, and that was the last thing he wanted for her right now.

The following day was just as productive where Ella was concerned. She woke up regularly,   choked down the tea when he refused to give her only water, and mumbled a few incoherent phrases. Names mainly. He couldn’t help frowning at the irony that all the names she’d said were those of men: Daniel Coleman, Stephan Ritz, and Albert Flank. He wondered who they were and why she was saying their names instead of his, but he let it go. There were far more important things to concern himself with. Such as her progress. And her progress was good.

The wound on her leg had completely closed up with a hearty scab over the top. Each day after that, the skin around it looked better and the wound itself was looking a bit smaller. He was very pleased. Especially that the foul odor from her infection was now gone, too. Just more proof that the infection was gone and her leg was healing.

But it would still take some time before she’d be able to walk on it again, since a fair amount of the muscle had been eaten away. If she ever regained enough strength to wake up, that is. Saving Grace had told him it could be a few days, even with the medicine, before her fever would be gone and she’d have the strength to stay awake and regain her full memory. He just had to be patient.

He bent forward and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, thankful she was still alive. He straightened in his chair and glanced out at the sun from the window. Dinner would be here soon, and so would Ella’s next time of being awake.

Dinner didn’t arrive, however, and despite it seeming greedy on his end, he frowned. He knew it was only out of generosity that Wes had taken to making sure something was brought to Jack and Ella, but it would have been nice had the man told him nothing would be delivered tonight. He was certain that Ella might like something more fulfilling than tea and water.

He jerked open the door to reveal a very stunned Allison standing just outside the door beside a casual-looking Wes.

“I was just...”

Wes chuckled. “Are you planning to let us in?”

Jack took a step back, then off to the side to allow them to enter. He furrowed his brow when he caught sight of the dishes arranged on Wes’ tray. “Are the two of you planning to join us for dinner?” he ventured.

“No, just Allison.” Wes put the tray down on the table. “You’ll be dining by yourself.”

Jack stared at Wes, dumbfounded.

“What he means is, we’ll be having dinner in your room tonight and you’ll be dining in ours.”

“No.”

Wes walked over to him. “Jack, you’ve spent days on end in here. You need to spend some time outside of this room.”

“I did. I went to see Dark Moon,” he reminded Wes.

“That doesn’t count.” He dropped his voice. “This was Allison’s idea, and once she takes an idea into her mind, there isn’t any way to sway her.”

“Just because you can’t stand up to your wife, Wes, doesn’t mean that I have to abide by her demands.”

Wes’ blue eyes turned to chips of ice. “Be mindful what you say, Jack. My wife never denied me intimacies and sought to spend her wedding night outside of my company.”

Jack’s face heated.

“Now,” Wes continued, his tone softening. “We shall dine with Ella tonight, and if she wakes up, Allison can help her any way she might need. You go next door and eat—do not interrupt me, I know you haven’t been eating all of what I’ve been bringing you.” He pushed Jack toward the door and opened it. “Besides, you are in desperate need of a bath.”

Jack sniffed himself. “Agreed.” He cast a glance at Ella. What if she woke up while he wasn’t there...

“Go,” Wes said, pushing him toward the door.

“I can’t.” Jack sidestepped Wes. “I can’t leave her. I don’t care how foul I smell, I’m not leaving her.”

“You need to,” Allison said.

“No. I can’t.”

Her face softened. “How about a compromise?”

Jack crossed his arms. “I don’t compromise.”

Allison ignored him. “We will go, but you must eat.”

“Fine, I’ll eat,” he said through clenched teeth.

Wes exhaled. “All right. I’ll bring the bath in here.” He shot Jack a sharp look. “You will be bathing tonight.”

Jack lifted his brows. “And do you plan to stand around and ensure that I do?”

“No. I’ll go inform one of my men that is his duty tonight.”

Jack scowled. “Just go.”

Wes left and Allison grinned. “I’ll just take Wes’ plate with me.” She looked down at Ella. “If she needs—”

“I’ll come get you.”

She nodded and walked to the door just in time to open it for her husband, who was carrying in a large copper tub.

Wes set it down by the fire.

“I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow.”

“There’s no need for that. I’ve talked to Colonel Lewis. The tub and pails are now officially yours, so we shouldn’t have to have this type of conversation again.”

Jack shook his head. “Thank you.”

Wes muttered something, then left and came back a minute later with two large pails of steaming water and set them next to the tub.

Jack closed the door behind his friends then let his eyes travel from the food to the tub. There was no doubt about it. He might have hardly eaten since Ella had taken ill, but the temptation of the tub was far more appealing.

Jack bent to untie his boots and peel off his stockings, then splayed his toes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d removed his boots. Or any of his clothes for that matter. He stripped off his once white shirt that now bore stains from sweat and tea, then dropped his dark blue trousers.

Careful not to spill one precious drop of the water, he poured both pails into the tub then walked over to the shelf where he’d placed the bar of soap he’d bought from Charles.

The hot water was like euphoria to his tired body and aching muscles.

He sank a little lower and closed his eyes. He knew he should be doing a quick scrub and then getting out and waiting for Ella to awake. It had been almost an hour and a half since she was last awake. She’d wake up soon. He needed to get out. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He would in a minute, he promised himself, leaning a little farther down into the tub.

He involuntarily groaned and shifted to spread out as best he could in such a confined space.

Sleep he couldn’t fight began to settle over him and he tried in vain to lift his eyelids, but the dark abyss of slumber called to him—

“Jack!”

***

Ella held her hand over her pounding heart as she sat bolt upright in a bed that she vaguely remembered. Her eyes wandered the room. Dishes. Curtains. A pile of discarded clothes. Towels. Food. A tub. A naked man.

She blushed and pulled her eyes away. Not only had he been naked, but he was dripping wet. His dark hair was slicked back and steady drops of water were dripping from the ends of his hair, his nose, his chin, his fingers and even... Her face flushed. Yes, in a matter of seconds, when she’d looked his way, she’d even noticed that. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, now at her side. His large hand touched her back, while the other cupped her face and turned her gaze toward him.

Jack. She licked her lips. “I—I’m sorry for what I did to your boots.”

“My boots?” he repeated, confusion marring his handsome face with a line between his brows.

“Earlier when you came in to take me to breakfast and I accidentally...er...washed your boots in last night’s dinner.”

He stared at her for a long moment, after which a look she’d never seen on his face, or anyone else’s, came over his, and then, he wrapped both of his arms around her and sank to his knees on the floor beside her. He pulled her against his bare chest and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t care about my boots, Ella. They’re replaceable, you’re not.”

She wiggled around to see his face but couldn’t get a clear view of the addled man who held her.

He pulled away from her but didn’t let her go. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Yes, she was, too. She’d had a terrible nightmare. “Thank you,” she said because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.”

A grin split his lips. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He moved his hands to frame her face and idly stroked her cheekbones. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Yes. You can put some clothes on.”

He glanced down at himself, then met her gaze again, his dark brown eyes alight with all sorts of mischief. “Sorry. I was taking a bath while you were resting.”

“I didn’t know we had a bathtub in here,” she said, rather excited at the prospect. If she’d known, she’d have taken a bath when she’d first started feeling sick.

“Wes just brought it over a little while ago. Colonel Lewis assigned us one because—” He broke off with a hard swallow, but he’d said enough. A private tub was likely just another benefit to being married.

A wave of sadness and renewed vulnerability came over her at his partial admission as memories of the day before flooded her. She pulled away. “Just get dressed, please.”

He stood and quickly donned his clothes while she stared down at her nails. He walked past her, creating a light breeze. She shivered and ran her hands over her bare arms. She froze. Her bare arms? Hadn’t she lain down in her dress?

She was certain of it. She cast a fleeting glance over to Jack, then closed her eyes. Likely, he’d taken it upon himself to undress her. She swallowed, staving off the prickles of humiliation. Perhaps he thought he was helping, she reasoned in her mind, taking a deep breath. At least he hadn’t completely undressed her or worse... She shivered again, remembering brief snippets of her dream, and what had happened to her then. Her shiver made her legs brush together. She grimaced. The inside of her calf still itched and a large circle of concentrated tender-itchiness had formed. There was no doubt about it; some eight-legged critter had had the audacity to bite her!

She turned her leg slightly and pushed the itchiest area down firmly against the mattress. She had this horrible habit of scratching things that were best left alone, such as poison ivy and spider bites. The last thing she needed was to scratch her bite and make it bleed all over the bedclothes, which is exactly what would happen now that she wasn’t wearing any stockings.

Ella clenched her fists, squeezed her eyes closed and tried to think of anything other than her leg. Sheep. Cows. Cotton plants. Rivers. Trees. Fans. Wigs. Books. Jack—

“Do you feel like eating?” Jack asked as he buttoned the top button of his shirt.

She started. “Actually, I do.”

“Good.” He grinned. “Oh, stay there, I’ll bring it to you.”

She nodded, thankful she didn’t have to get up. Then she scooted back against the pillows while Jack brought over a bowl of soup for her. “This looks better than last night’s,” she commented, taking the bowl from him.

Jack looked at his plate. “I’d offer you a peek at my meal, but I don’t want to make that soup inedible for you.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you for sparing me such a fate.” She ate a spoonful of the best soup she’d ever tasted. Or at least the best soup she’d had since she left her home in Savannah. A dull ache formed in her chest. She missed home. She forced her thoughts away. “I’ll make dinner tomorrow night.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do.” She took a deep breath. “I came all this way to be your wife, knowing I’d have to cook.”

His face grew hard and his eyes pierced her. “You don’t have to cook, Ella. I’ve survived the last two years on these meals.”

She returned his stare. They both knew this had nothing to do with her cooking dinner the next night. She dropped her gaze and idly stirred her soup. She had to let her anger at his deceit go. They’d be miserable if she didn’t. She sighed and lifted her spoon to her lips. “Thank you for the soup, Jack. Also, I’m sorry, I interrupted your bath.”

He nodded once and they finished their meal in utter silence.

~Chapter Eighteen~

Jack ran his fingers over the long, cold barrel of his pistol. It was the same pistol he’d been issued when he started at West Point and the only pistol he’d ever used since then. So reliable and constant, it was one of the only things in his life that had ever been that way. His parents certainly hadn’t been.

He put it down on the table and turned his head to look out the window. The sky was as black as the leather on his boots, perhaps darker; lit only by a large white ball in the eastern sky. He sighed and glanced over at Ella. She’d fallen asleep an hour or so ago. He’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge that a part of him was relieved when she’d said she was tired and snuggled back into her pillows. Their conversation after she’d awaken fully lucid had been strained at best.

He steepled his hands and pondered what to do next. She was awake and recovering just fine. Did he return to work now? Or did he stay and take care of Ella until she was fully healed? Colonel Lewis had told him to take off until she was awake, and then he could have an additional week off to take care of her until she was fully recovered. He so badly wanted to do just that. But how would she feel about being around him so much? He’d never met anyone who seemed to dislike and not trust him as much as his own wife.

***

Certain it was completely dark in the room, Ella allowed herself to finally open her eyes. Following their tension-filled dinner together, she’d feigned sleep, this time hoping it would come. Unfortunately, it seemed to be as elusive as the pot of gold that was rumored to be at the end of each side of the rainbow.

Ella’s eyes traveled over the room. It had looked so different only yesterday. Jack must have made a few purchases today. She couldn’t fault him there. The room had been positively barren when she’d woken up this morning. His day must have been very busy. Or at least his afternoon, she amended. He’d come to see her at lunch, because she remembered him doing that. She still hadn’t felt well, but she did remember him giving her water to drink. The room had still looked fairly empty then with all of her trunks and travel bags stacked against the wall by the door and only a few dishes on the shelves. This evening, however, there was a tablecloth on the table, along with candlesticks (and brass holders) on the table and their dresser. There were more dishes and what appeared to be sheets stacked on the shelf in the corner. Dark green curtains now hung where the tattered, threadbare ones had hung at lunchtime. A mirror framed in dark wood was leaning against the wall on top of their dresser. So many little things. Yet, so little time involved. She shook her head. He probably had help doing all of that.

Speaking of him...

She turned her head slightly to discover Jack sitting at their crudely fashioned dining table. He was still dressed in his shirt and trousers and had his boots laced all the way to the top. She bit her lip. Should she invite him to bed? It was his right to sleep there. He had a job he needed to be awake for tomorrow. It wouldn’t do for him to be stiff and tired in the morning. An image of his wet, naked body flashed in her mind and her throat went dry.

“Jack,” she croaked.

At first, he didn’t respond, making her think that perhaps he hadn’t heard her. Just as she’d resigned herself to the fact that he was either sleeping or very displeased with her, he said, “Yes, Ella?”

“Uh, why did you join the army?” What kind of stupid question was that? She needed to invite him to go to sleep, not prod him about something immaterial.

“I had nowhere else to go,” he said softly.

Ella’s heart clenched. She knew that feeling. She’d longed to matter and belong, even if it was only to one person. “Your service means a lot to so very many,” she said, using the same words she’d overheard her father use so many times with his men when they’d come to him about being discouraged.

“Thank you, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I joined because I was angry and bitter at my mother.”

“Oh.” She’d heard many reasons for men to join the army, but never that one. “What did she do?”

“It wasn’t just one thing.” He drummed his fingers on the table for a minute. “When I was about three or four, she decided to go see her sister back in Philadelphia. Her stagecoach must have been delayed because she didn’t come back until I was seven. Two months later, she left again to go experience life in Boston, then New York. She went many places and I saw her only for brief snatches here and there until I was sixteen. That’s when my father got sick.

“According to the doctor, all of the time he’d spent underground mining coal had damaged his lungs. He had me write to my mother and tell her it was time to come home. She did as she was bid and played the doting wife for a while. But the sicker he got, the more sensitive her sensibilities became.” He scoffed. “You’d think by the way she touched him that his body was wrought with a contagious skin disease; and the way she recoiled at the very idea of having to help him bathe or see to any other sort of need he had, made me question my own parentage a time or two. I might have resembled my father, but it was either due to immaculate conception or she wasn’t truly my mother.”

Ella cracked a small smile at his jest.

“When he died some six months after becoming sick, she fled again and I was left to begin my job in the mine. I hated it. Absolutely hated it. The feeling was mutual between me and the foreman, however, and we were both quite pleased when a man showed up one day to settle my father’s accounts.

“See, what I never knew as a child was that my father owned half the mine. My mother’s spending habits, however, were so extreme and the mine so new and not yet profitable, my father had to also work at the mine in order to keep the two of us fed. Anyway, his share in the company passed to me, and not two weeks later, my mother had returned.” He let out a deep breath. “As a boy of close to seventeen, I wanted to believe her when she said she was ready to return and be the mother she hadn’t been before. But when she vanished a week after I’d signed the contract that would give her a percentage of the mine’s earnings each year that I owned it, I sold my portion of the mine, my father’s house and everything else that would fetch a price—even if it was only a cent. I sold it all.

“My father had never really been one to have discussions with me, but in his final months, he’d told me about the friends he’d made during his short time in the army. That’s when I decided to take all of the money I had and go to West Point. It seemed the best solution. I could join the army, and all of the money would be gone, freeing me from my mother and her manipulations all at once.”

Ella lay there frozen. That was more than she’d ever heard him say. Not that she’d been around him that much, but even in his letters, he hadn’t said much. Except about Christmas. She smiled warmly at the memory of his letter about Christmas. “It seems you found the camaraderie and sense of belonging that you were seeking.”

“You mean with Wes and Gray?”

“Yes. Did you meet them at West Point?”

“No. They’re both two years older than I am. I think I saw them each only once or twice there. ”

“Did you not see them for meals or evening activities?”

“No. When I wasn’t in class, I was locked in my room studying or was out shooting at targets. Foolish boy that I was, I didn’t take into account that reading, writing and basic arithmetic were skills I’d need. My father’s lack of funds and his twelve-hour days in the mines hadn’t exactly given me a life that had prepared me for such intense schooling, and I had to spend a lot more time studying books and learning the weaponry than anyone else. That was an oversight on my end when I went to the dean and persuaded him to allow me entry, showing him that I had the funds for four full years. I should have known I would have trouble when I couldn’t even read or understand all of the words on the application papers.”

“But you stuck with your choice and didn’t run away when you realized how hard it would be,” she reminded him, and herself at the same time. She’d made a choice to come here. She couldn’t back out. She had to see it through.

“Yes. That I did, and I’m glad that I did.”

Would she one day be glad she’d come here, too? She didn’t wish to think about it too deeply at the moment but knew she’d never know for sure if she didn’t start making an effort with him. She licked her lips and screwed up what was left of her fleeting courage. “Jack, do you plan to sleep in that chair all night or come to bed?”

~Chapter Nineteen~

“Good morning.”

Ella’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing to Jack one blue and one green orb. “Good morning.”

“How do you feel?” Jack asked, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at her.

“Better.” She reached up and brushed her hair away from her face. “What time is it?”

Jack glanced out the window. “I’d say it might be about five thirty or so.”

“Too early,” she said with a yawn.

Jack grinned. “Breakfast will be served at six.”

“Excuse me, but breakfast is served when I say it’s ready.”

Chuckling, he said, “I meant downstairs.”

“Oh good, then I’ll just go back to sleep.”

He let his eyes travel over her face. Her skin looked so much better than it had the past few days. He was tempted to look at her leg but didn’t want to startle her at his boldness and have her do something that might disrupt her scab. “If you’d like to sleep for a while longer, that’s fine, but I need to go talk to Wes before I miss him,” he fibbed. He really wanted to talk to Allison to ask her opinion on what his best course of action with Ella would be, but he didn’t want to tell that to Ella.

“I’ll start breakfast when you come back.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll just stay right there and rest.”

“Are you afraid if I move around a lot while you’re gone, we’ll have a repeat of yesterday, when you came in here and I added a little more decoration to your uniform?”

“Exactly. You just rest. I’ll be back in a little while with breakfast.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, then closed her eyes.

Wes looked relieved and Allison downright excited when Jack told them about Ella’s progress after he’d found the two of them down in the stable for the early morning ride they’d made a habit of taking each day.

Jack blew out a deep breath. “Now that she’s awake, I don’t know what to do with her.”

“Do with her?” Wes asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“She’s well enough to stay awake for a few hours. She can talk and eat without problems. But she can’t stay there alone.”

“She can join us at Mrs. Lewis’,” Allison suggested as if Jack were simpleminded.

“I don’t think she’s well enough for that.”

“Then keep her in bed,” Gray said, coming up behind Jack. He grinned. “At least that’s what I’d do.”

Jack clenched his fists. “I couldn’t care less about your opinion on the matter.”

Gray threw his hands into the air. “I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need that kind of help, thank you.” Jack shook his head. “One day, you, too, will have a wife and I cannot wait to see just how often she allows you entry into her bed.”

“I didn’t realize you had such an interest in my private life.”

“Well, when someone like you makes his private habits so public, one can only continue to speculate.” Jack grimaced. “Anyway, Gray, this is not about you and your constant need for female companionship. I just came to ask Wes—and Allison—for advice on whether I should go to work today or stay with Ella again.”

“Why do you even need to ask that?” Gray asked with a scoff.

Jack ground his teeth and turned to Wes and Allison.

Allison glanced at her husband, then to Jack. “How well can she walk?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “There hasn’t been a need for her to walk. I brought her a bowl of soup in bed. She hasn’t needed to stand for anything else.”

“Does her leg hurt?”

Jack cocked his head to the side. He’d thought to ask her, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Surely, if it hurt that bad, she’d have said something. “If it does, she hasn’t said so.”

“My only concern is her ability to use it,” Allison said. “That infection ate a lot of her muscle. She’ll be likely to fall.”

“But will she have to get up and walk around if you and the other ladies join her in her room today?” Wes asked.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good. Then my vote is now that she’s awake, you should leave her be and go to work,” Wes said.

“Is that what you’d have done if it were me?” Allison asked.

“Of course.” Wes grinned at her. “What is it they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, or something like that? It would have been painful to leave you, but worth every moment of separation when I returned from work.”

“For some reason, the look on Allison’s face doesn’t echo those thoughts,” Gray mused. “I also vote you return to work. I’m tired of having your men under my command. They’re almost as bad as—”

“Your own men,” Jack cut in, garnering a snicker and a grin from Wes. “As it would happen, Colonel Lewis has granted me today off anyway. So what you want doesn’t really concern me.”

“Well then, since it seems as though that’s what you want to do already, then there’s no reason to ask us for an opinion. Just stay home with her,” Gray said in a tone Jack couldn’t quite place.

Jack ignored him—and Wes—and turned to Allison. “If you were Ella, would you want your husband’s company or prefer to be taken care of by a pack of fawning females.”

“I can’t answer that, Jack. What I want and what Ella wants might be two very different things. All I can tell you is to go with your instinct.”

“Thank you, Allison.” Jack swung his gaze to Gray’s hopeful one and winked. “Be sure to watch Private Galworth when he’s shooting. He doesn’t always remember to point his gun down when reloading.”

***

Ella stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. Jack would be back soon. Last night hadn’t gone so well between them. Well, that wasn’t true. Right before bed, their chat had been fine, probably because only he was talking. A pang of regret hit her chest. He’d had a very hard life, being abandoned by his mother and barely seeing his father. Even while her father was in the army, his family had traveled with him. Pa hadn’t spent more than an hour or two a day with his family, but he’d at least been there. That was more than Jack could say for his mother.

The click of a lock pulled her from her thoughts.

“Are you ready to eat?” Jack asked, carrying in a tray with two plates of food.

“Yes. I’m so famished I could eat an entire herd of buffalo.”

Jack set the tray down. “Be careful who you say that to around here. If one of the Indians heard about your hidden desire, we could find ourselves going to war.”

She made her eyes go wide and pressed her fingers to her lips. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” she asked in feigned horror.

His face suddenly went blank and he began looking around the room as if he were genuinely befuddled. “Tell anyone what?”

She grinned at his antics. He truly was a good sort.

Breakfast was...simple. Bread and an unidentifiable globule. The bread was fairly good. The globule was not. Oh well, she’d make them pancakes or biscuits tomorrow.

“What are your plans for the day?” Ella asked.

Jack took a swallow of his coffee. “Entertain you.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to?”

“No. It’s just... Don’t you have to march your men and patrol the area?”

He cocked his head to the side. “You seem to know a lot for having just arrived on a fort.”

“My father is General Samuel Davis,” she said with a blush. When Jack’s dark brown eyes flared wide, she grinned and said, “I take it you’ve heard of him?”

He twisted his lips. “Yes. He presented me with my diploma when I finished last in my class at West Point.”

Ella instinctively reached for his hand. “Don’t be so critical of yourself. Many men cannot even finish. Besides, someone had to be last.”

“Thank you for putting that into perspective for me,” Jack said dryly.

“You’re welcome.” She reached for her cup, then retracted her hand. She should have used the chamberpot while he wasn’t there, but hadn’t wanted to get out of bed. Now she’d have to wait for him to go to work— She frowned. “You never did answer my question. Why don’t you have to work today?”

“I have the day off.”

How fortunate was that. He had the day off and she needed to use the privy. She pushed the thought from her mind. Surely when he was done eating, he’d give her a few minutes of privacy to take care of her needs. She felt a blush creep up her face at the brief memory of the dream she’d had yesterday. Though the man’s face was blurry and indecipherable, she could remember his actions well enough, as he ran cool rags over her, helped her drink and even saw her in her most vulnerable state.

“I’m so glad the idea of spending the day with me can bring such a pretty blush to your cheeks.”

Ella started. Then coughed. “I was thinking... Never mind that.” She repositioned the pillows behind her then readjusted her sheet to keep herself covered. She frowned down at her chemise. She didn’t recognize it as hers. Likely, she’d accidentally taken one of Michaela’s when she’d snagged them from the line before Grace had had a chance to fold them and put them away. “So tell me, Lieutenant Walker, how do you plan to entertain me today?” She prayed he hadn’t planned an activity that would require her to expend a lot of energy, for she was still a little tired.

Jack reached into his pocket, then tossed something on the table with a thump loud enough to make her jump.

She furrowed her brows. “Cards?”

He nodded. “I reckon it’s the only way I’ll be able to stay out of trouble.”

“How so?”

He flashed her a quick, teasing grin. “My talking will be limited to asking for another card.”

~Chapter Twenty~

“I win!” Ella burst out with a giggle.

Jack tossed his cards down on the bed. “I demand a rematch.”

Ella’s hands slowed their gathering of the cards and she peeked up at where he sat cross-legged on the other end of their bed. “I don’t know about you. You’ve lost three times now. You might cheat just to avoid being bested by your wife.”

Jack raised his hands into the air in a show of overdone innocence, a giant grin splitting his handsome face. “I swear I won’t.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “I don’t know. I have to be careful around you. I never can tell when you’re scheming something.”

“I swear the card just fell into my sleeve,” he said evenly, sending her into another fit of giggles.

“I’ll just bet it did. Just like it was a complete accident when you shifted to get more comfortable and the entire deck slid from the bed.”

“I’m a big man, Ella. I can’t make small movements.”

She pressed her lips together to try to keep from laughing. Finally. It had taken an hour or so, but the tension that had settled over them from their rough start had finally faded and fun and laughter had taken its place. She liked this better. They’d argued too much since her arrival. Of course, some things would have to be discussed, but for now, this peace and joy was wonderful.

“What do you say? One more game before lunch?”

“Oh, all right!” She handed Jack the cards and watched him carefully as he shuffled them.

“Here, you deal.”

Ella dealt them their cards, doing her best not to laugh at the look of concentration on Jack’s face as he watched her, presumably to make sure she wasn’t cheating.

“On the count of three,” he murmured, putting his hands on top of his cards and staring intently at her.

She mimicked the action and narrowed her eyes on him. “Are you going to start counting soon?”

His voice was silent, but the focused look on his face spoke volumes.

She tried to keep a straight face and her hands itched to turn the cards.

“One, two, th—”

Ella flipped her cards.

“You cheated!” Jack accused with a laugh.

Ella started. “What?”

“I didn’t even finish the word!” He grinned at her in a way that made her insides flip.

“I find it sad you have to resort to such tricks to be able to accuse me of cheating,” she said as best she could against the giggles that were threatening to escape. “I demand you expunge it from my record immediately.”

He set down his cards and leaned forward. “I will do just that, but it will cost you a small fee.”

“A fee?” She crossed her arms and leaned closer to him.

“Mmmhmm,” he murmured, “just a small one.”

Her breath caught. “How small?”

“A kiss.”

Her blood picked up pace at his request. “On the cheek?”

He paused but only for a second. “As long as it’s within an inch of my lips, then yes, on the cheek will suffice.”

Her lips twitched. She knew what he was about. He was going to turn his head at the last second and kiss her fully on the lips the way he’d intended to at their wedding.

Her skin heated. Did she want him to kiss her that way? A shiver ran down her spine at the realization that she did. “A-all right,” she said softly. “I’ll pay your fee.” She licked her lips and moved closer—

“Jack!”

Jack and Ella both jumped when a voice yelled his name through the door. Then the two exchanged looks.

Slowly, Jack got off of the bed and walked to the door. “Colonel Lewis?”

Colonel Lewis gave Jack a nod then let himself into their room.

Mildly embarrassed for just being caught sitting in Jack’s bed and wearing only a chemise, she grabbed the sheet and rushed to cover herself.

“I see you’re doing well today,” the colonel said to Ella.

She nodded. “I feel much better thank you.”

“Much better?” He looked at Jack. “How long?”

“Since last night.”

Ella blinked. That was an odd exchange.

“I see,” Colonel Lewis went on. “And now that she’s doing better, you plan to return to work next Wednesday then?”

Jack’s answer was drowned out by the sudden sound of her blood roaring in her ears. “I’m sorry, but what did you just say?” Ella said in a voice she barely recognized as hers.

“I just wanted to ask Jack when he’d be returning to work now that you’re well.”

Every drop of blood that had just been racing through her veins crashed to her feet and bile surged in her throat at the crushing sensation in her entire abdomen.  “Is there anything you will not stoop to, Lieutenant Walker?” she demanded, hot, angry tears welling in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Jack demanded.

“You used me again,” she said as evenly as she could despite the storm of emotions swirling around inside of her.

Jack frowned. “How so?”

“You’ve used my minor bout of stomach flu as a means to get yourself excused from having to work for an entire week.”

“Minor?” Jack scoffed. “Is that what you think?”

“Do you doubt I know my own body?”

“Perhaps.”

She had the urge to throw a pillow at his careless expression, but refrained. He was clearly trying to upset her. Unfortunately, it was working. “Would you please go?”

“No.” He crossed his arms. “Not until you tell me what you mean. How am I using you?”

She stared at him. “You know exactly what you’ve done.”

“No. I don’t.”

Ella swallowed the sob that had lodged itself in her throat. “My presence here has drastically improved your life.”

“I think that’s standard when most men marry,” he said with a grin.

She didn’t return his grin. “Yours improved more than most. Our marriage has garnered you a bigger bed in a room with more luxuries—” she cast a glance to the private tub he’d been bathing in last night— “it has also gotten you removed from the duty of watchtower and now you’re taking leave for my illness. You’re using me.”

A light blush stained his cheeks. “That wasn’t my intent.”

“Wasn’t it?” she challenged, fighting once again to keep her voice even.

He shook his head and clenched his hands into fists. “I’ll admit that I do like the idea of a private room and not having to take a turn in the watchtower, but I didn’t marry for that sole purpose.”

“No, you didn’t. Why stop there when you could get a reprieve from work to care for your ailing wife for a week while she recovers from an upset stomach.”

His face went red. “Lift your sheet.”

“I will do no such thing!” She cut her eyes to Colonel Lewis, who looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. The difference was, he could leave the room if he wanted to, but it seemed by the stunned expression on his face—likely because of Jack’s scandalous and highly inappropriate statement—he lacked the ability.

“I see,” he said slowly, giving his head a single nod. A muscle in his cheek ticked. “Fine. I take it you’d like for me to return to work. Or would you prefer I be sent to the stockade?”

Something about his tone unsettled her. He was angry with her! How dare he? He was the one using her, not the other way around. “If that’s where Colonel Lewis sees best to send you, then yes.” She bit her lip to stop its quivering then inclined her chin and met his intense gaze. “That’s where my father would send you for such blatant deceit.”

“Very well.” He snatched up his hat from where it sat on the bureau. “I shall bid you farewell.”

***

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I granted you those days off and I’ll explain that to her,” Colonel Lewis said in a tone that suggested he’d really rather not, as soon as Jack pulled him out of the room and slammed the door behind them.

Jack shook his head and gripped his hat so hard he’d likely put a permanent bend in the brim. Yes, he had done something wrong. Worst of all, Gray was right. He clamped his jaw shut. To everyone: Wes, Gray, the entire army, and most of all Ella, he was using her. He’d dismissed the notion when Gray had mentioned it the other night, but he couldn’t now. The truth was plain to see.

So much made sense now, such as why her face had grown hard when he was explaining that they’d have a private room. And when she’d abruptly departed dinner after the watchtower was mentioned along with his being released of his duty to stand watch. She thought he was using her and it had led her to grow cold and distant toward him.

“Jack?”

“I’m not using her,” he spat.

“I didn’t say you were,” his superior said slowly. “But I can see why she thinks you are.”

Yes, and now so could he. It hadn’t been his intention though. When he’d first advertised for a wife, he didn’t truly expect to get a reply that would make him take action. He’d liked the idea of a wife and seeing Wes and Allison so content had spurred him to write the ad, but he wasn’t convinced he’d find a wife that way. Ella’s letter was the only one he’d responded to. Something about the way it was worded intrigued him and he truly became interested in her. No one else. Many of the other young ladies would have come, but she was the only one he wanted to come. He remembered the conversation Gray mentioned the other day and even remembered saying that exact statement Gray had said he’d made. But even as he said it then, he knew that he’d never bring a woman here he didn’t truly have an interest in just for the benefit of bettering his situation.

“Jack, are you even listening to me?”

Jack started. “No.”

“At least you’re honest,” Colonel Lewis muttered. He removed his hat and sighed. “Why don’t you go back in there and try to explain it to her again?”

“Back in there?” He jerked his thumb toward the door behind him. “Into a buzzing beehive of anger? No, thank you. I’d rather take my chances of wandering onto the Cherokee land in search of Dark Moon at midnight again than try to reason with an angry woman. My chances of an unscathed survival would be much higher.”

The colonel chuckled. “Would you like my advice?”

Jack wanted to groan. Why did everyone want to give him advice? “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

Jack forced a smile. “Then I’d love to hear your experienced wisdom.”

Colonel Lewis clapped him on the shoulder. “She won’t hold onto her anger forever.”

“Well, that’s a blessing I’ll be sure to count during my evening prayers tonight.”

“Be sure that you do and if you’d use my name as a reference in pointing that out to you, I’d be most appreciative.”

“Anything else?”

“Just give her time. She’ll come around.”

Jack didn’t doubt that. She couldn’t hate him forever. But, out here, it could certainly seem like forever. He sighed. He’d just have to earn her trust. There wasn’t anything else he could do.

“What do you plan to do now?” Colonel Lewis asked.

“Outrun you.”

“Why?”

“I have no desire to go to the stockade.”

Colonel Lewis pursed his lips. “Actually, it’s not me you should be outrunning. It’s General Ridgely. He wasn’t very pleased to learn about your midnight rendezvous with Dark Moon.”

Jack grimaced. “Well then, I suppose it’s best that I don’t tell you I’m on my way to rescue Gray from a possible bullet wound at the hands of one of my men.” If nothing else, at least working would take his mind off of Ella and their latest step in the wrong direction.

“Good.” Colonel Lewis gave a slight nod. “I’ll go escort the ladies to your room so they can help care for Ella if she requires something.”

“Thank you. You might wish to warn them that any mention of my name might get them gutted like a fish.”

~Chapter Twenty-One~

Ella hadn’t been out of her bed since she’d lain down yesterday morning with an upset stomach and she had less interest in getting up now than she did then. Even despite her full bladder urging her up, she couldn’t force herself to get out from under the covers. Jack’s latest betrayal stung the worst. Having her marry him to get a bigger room and out of certain responsibilities like the watchtower paled in comparison to creating some silly story about her “illness” to get himself excused from a week of work.

She covered her face with her hands. Oh, Michaela, you were right. I should have listened. But she hadn’t and now she was bound for life to a snake. Tears pricked her eyes again. She blinked to keep them at bay. There was no use in shedding one more tear over him. He wasn’t worth—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ella scowled. Why should he even bother to knock? He had a key and it wasn’t as if she were strong enough to keep him out.

As if to prove her point, the unmistakable sound of a key sliding into the lock filled the air, and then the lock turned.

“I thought I told you—” Her words died on her lips and her cheeks heated with color when Allison, followed by Colonel Lewis, entered the room.

“Allison is going to sit with you this afternoon,” the colonel said.

Ella frowned. “I don’t need anyone to sit with me. I’m perfectly fine.”

“That might be,” Colonel Lewis agreed, “but I cannot, in good conscience, allow you—or any woman—to be alone anywhere on the fort. Some of the men here aren’t to be trusted, and I do not speak of either of your husbands.” He flashed a quick grin at Ella, then cleared his throat. “Lucille and Mrs. Ridgely will be here with lunch in a while.”

Ella nodded numbly. It was the only response she could think of.

Allison, who Ella had read so much about but had never actually met, saw Colonel Lewis out, then came to sit on Ella’s bed. “How do you feel?”

Why did everyone keep asking her that? She’d had a small bout of a stomach virus. She hadn’t been on her deathbed. Of course, everyone must think she had been on her deathbed because Jack had to tell them something awful in order to fool the colonel into approving his request for time off. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“How are things going with Jack?” Her eyes softened after a moment. “That good?”

A new round of traitorous tears formed. “I wish I hadn’t come here,” she said on a sob.

“You don’t mean that.” Allison reached inside her purse and withdrew a handkerchief. “You’re just overwrought right now. In a day or two, you’ll feel better and have a new perspective. I promise.”

“No, I don’t think I will. Coming here was a mistake of the worst kind.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Allison said firmly. “At least, I don’t think it was.”

“For you or for me?” Ella asked, not trying to be unkind, though she knew it might seem that way.

“Either.” Allison grinned.

Ella shook her head and tried to hold in her tears, but she lacked the strength. How many more times would the sweet man who’d diligently returned her letters use her? He’d withheld so much of himself in his letters and now his true nature had finally been revealed: a cold, heartless man who was using her to better his life in every way he possibly could—including using her as an excuse to get out of his everyday work in addition to the watchtower.

“Shh,” Allison crooned, wrapping Ella in a tight hug.

That made Ella want to cry even harder. The first time she’d met the one woman she’d thought could be like a sister to her, and she was a sobbing mess. Oh how she wished Michaela were here. She’d know what to do to make things right. “I—I’m s-s-sorry,” she choked.

“Don’t be sorry,” Allison soothed. “We all have our limits. When I first came here, I felt like crying, too.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” She blushed. “And after a few days, I finally did.”

“Why?”

“My coming here wasn’t intentional. I was abandoned when my stagecoach left while I was trying to buy some peppermint from that swindler who owns the sutler’s store.” She scowled. “I didn’t know anyone and I had no clothes. Wes was kind enough to offer me a temporary marriage until the man I was engaged to could come for me, but I still had no clothes and I couldn’t tolerate the food. Unfortunately, I’m a terrible seamstress and I didn’t know how to cook. Things were so much different than what I was accustomed to. Finally, I was so defeated that I started to cry and couldn’t stop.”

Ella took a shaky breath and wiped her eyes. The first night she’d been here, she’d assumed part of her tears at learning of his situation might have been because she was tired and overwrought from her travel. But now... She was well rested when more of his underhanded schemes had come to light and she was just as hurt, if not more so. On the way here, she’d felt...free and fanciful. She was on her way to meet her future husband, after all. She was on her way to finally become a bride and marry a man who wanted her. Or had he? Another wave of despair crashed over her. What had driven him to such great lengths to get her to come here? He was looking for someone—anyone—to come here, be his bride, and improve his life by doing so. Thinking about it that way, it sounded normal. Only, it wasn’t. Her presence hadn’t just improved his life by giving him a helpmate to weather the hardships of life with; every aspect of his life had been improved drastically merely by her presence.

Another round of tears welled up in her eyes as her mind went to war again in another attempt to decide what to believe. No longer caring how childish she appeared by letting her tears flow freely, she did just that. She sobbed on her new friend’s shoulder until, at last, the well had run dry and exhaustion had overtaken her. “Why did he do this?” Ella burst out in frustration for not the first—or second—time.

Allison didn’t reply right away. Not that she could. She was supposed to be soothing Ella, but her loyalties were to Jack. Ella understood that. At last, she said, “What has he done to you?”

Ella almost laughed at her innocence. Clearly Allison hadn’t been informed of much concerning her relationship with Jack. “He’s used me. Repeatedly.”

“Some might argue that Wes used me, too.”

Ella pulled away and stared at the addled woman. “I thought you said you were abandoned here by your stagecoach driver. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I think you were in need of someone to rescue you. I came here of my own accord.”

“Yes and yes. However, it didn’t have to be Wes who came to my rescue. I could have chosen another—but Wes was determined not to let that happen.”

“He manipulated you?” Ella said in disbelief. She’d never seen them together, but from Jack’s letters and from seeing each of them alone, she would never have guessed that anything but genuine love existed between those two. Not manipulation of any sort. Ever.

Allison frowned. “I wouldn’t say he manipulated me. That sounds very negative. He just explained the situation and made an offer that I couldn’t resist. Then before I could question him further or change my mind, he married me.” A wistful smile spread her lips. “As I said, coming here was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“But you didn’t have a choice,” Ella persisted.

“Yes, I did. I could have married another man.”

“But you still would have gotten to choose a husband. I didn’t. I came here with the promise that I’d marry Jack.” She left it at that because she had no desire to admit the shame she’d faced at home, having no genuine suitors there, either.

Allison’s brown eyes were soft and full of compassion, almost as if she knew what Ella had tried to run from. “Yes, I would have had to marry one of them...eventually. But according to the man I was promised to at the time, Wes trapped me and took advantage of the situation.” She grinned. “Not that I minded such a fate by the time Nicholas showed up. In fact, I wished Wes had taken more advantage—” She broke off with a blush. “Enough about that, we’re not here to talk about me and Wes, but you and Jack.”

Ella stared at her. She longed for the same relationship with Jack that Allison seemed to have with Wes, only it couldn’t be. So much deceit and bitterness filled their relationship. She’d thought they’d finally made some progress this morning, then in a blink of an eye, it was all shattered.

“I’m very happy things have worked out so well between you and Wes, considering your situation, but I do not see the same fate for me.”

“Do you care to tell me why?”

“Because he keeps using me,” Ella said tonelessly.

Allison tucked a tendril of her auburn hair behind her ear. “Can you explain how he’s used you?”

“He married me as a means to improve his lifestyle.”

Allison laughed. “That’s all men, Ella.”

“I know, but it seems more calculated.”

“You mean because his circumstances improved more than most?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “In his letters, he’d led me to believe that his circumstances were already decent. Not that he’d go from sharing a cot with a man who rivaled his size to having a large room with a bed twice as big that he would share with a woman who was expected to—” her face heated— “warm it for him.”

“This isn’t anything new,” Allison said calmly. “Nor is it going to change. You cannot continue to hold onto it and throw it in his face when you two get into a disagreement. That’s not fair to him, nor is it fair to any chance at future happiness the two of you might have.” She reached over and squeezed Ella’s hand. “I’m not trying to take his side over yours and be cruel. I’m only telling you what I see from an observer’s point of view.”

Ella took a deep breath. She knew Allison had a point. But did she really wish to tell Allison of the most recent way he’d used her? The one that would brand Jack as a liar and unwilling to work. Allison already knew about the watchtower, but would she think poorly of Jack if Ella revealed the lie he’d told his superior to get approval for more time off? It was certainly a stronger argument, but did Ella really wish everyone to know such a cowardly trait about her husband? No. She might not think very highly of him at the moment, but she didn’t wish for everyone else to shame him.

“You’re right,” Ella said quietly. “I won’t bring that up again.” Not to say she wouldn’t still be upset about his latest lie, but she’d leave his former faults in the past.

“Good.” Allison bit her lip. “Is there anything I can get for you? A new chemise perhaps? Or fresh water?”

Instantly, Ella was reminded of what she’d been waiting all morning to do but hadn’t been afforded any privacy to do it. “I suppose asking you to step out for a moment might be answered with a no, but would you mind turning around for a minute? I need to use—” She broke off and gave a pointed look at the chamberpot.

“Do you need any help?”

Ella’s eyes flared wide. What a strange question! “No, I think I can manage to empty my bladder without assistance,” she said dryly.

“Yes, I’m sure you can. But would you like me to bring it to you?”

“No. Allison, truly, I am not as sick as you might think. I can make it over there.”

“Oh, I assumed Jack brought it to you.”

“Actually, no. I’m sure he would have if I’d asked, but I didn’t wish for an audience so I’ve held it.”

“Since last night?”

Ella nodded.

“How?”

“Limiting my water, thoughts of deserts and squeezing my inner muscles every time the urge hit.” She shrugged. “My mother had four daughters and told me that she’d often do that throughout the day when she didn’t have to go so she wouldn’t drip when the urge hit.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Allison murmured.

“Oh, are you?” Ella dropped her eyes to Allison’s stomach.

“No. We’d like to wait to start a family until Wes gets moved to another post.”

Ella nodded. When she was young, her father had almost been transferred to a fort that he’d described as not suitable for small children. Meaning if he’d gone there, Ella, her sisters and mother would have had to stay with a relative while he was away. She’d wondered how officers and their wives who’d lived there prevented more children, but when she’d asked, her mother had quickly changed the subject. She imagined that Allison would know—

“Jack will take precautions when it’s time,” Allison said as if reading her mind. “I’ll let him explain to you what those are.” She straightened and clasped her hands in front of her. “Now, would you like me to help you get out of bed so you can attend your business?”

“I assure you that is not necessary.” Ella gripped the sheets and pulled them back to make it easier to get out of bed. “I promise I am not so weak that I cannot— Ouch!” She’d moved her legs and her left knee had hit that darn spider bite she’d been trying to ignore. She must have scratched it in her sleep and irritated it or something for it to hurt so much. She turned her leg to finally look at the offending thing and gasped.

“Ella? Ella what’s wrong?”

Panic filled Ella’s chest. Something was wrong, indeed, but what it was, she didn’t know. She turned her leg to show Allison. “I—I thought it was a spider bite and have been trying to ignore it so I wouldn’t scratch it. But—but—but...” Words escaped her. All she could do was stare down in horror at the huge scab that was covering a larger portion of her calf than she thought it ought to be. The edges of it looked jagged, as though it hadn’t been a full circle or oval or in any way symmetrical. There was a ring of bright red on the skin that surrounded it.

“Ella?” Allison touched her shoulder, commanding her attention.

Ella looked up briefly, then turned back to the awful sight on her calf. “I just don’t understand how this happened.”

Allison sat down on the bed next to her. “Have you spoken to Jack at all since you woke up last night?”

Ella nodded. “We had dinner together but didn’t say much. Before bed, I asked him how he came to join the army, and this morning we didn’t speak of anything of any consequence.”

Allison gave her a strange look, and Ella tried to evade her. The truth was, Jack had seemed hesitant to speak to her following her accusation about the tub. Not that she could blame him after she’d once again started lobbing accusations at him.

“Well, Ella, it might not be my place to tell you this, and I know that I’ll leave out a few details, so you’ll have to talk to Jack, but it’s quite clear that your husband is forgetful like most men and has yet to inform you of a few things since you first got sick.”

Ella’s body went numb with anticipation of what Allison was about to tell her.

“You remember when you were first sick and missed breakfast?”

“Yes, Jack had left to go see to the horses and came back to take me to breakfast, and I didn’t feel well.”

Allison nodded. “He went to work that day and came to visit you at lunch. Do you remember that?”

Ella thought for a minute. “Yes. He brought me something to drink.”

“When he returned from work that night to see if you felt well enough to eat dinner, he said you refused some broth but drank some water, then acted a little strange before falling asleep with a mild fever. He said he wasn’t too concerned because you were still drinking whenever you were awake and had spoken to him for a while before going to sleep. Around midnight that night, he came banging on our door. Your fever had spiked and you were lashing out in your sleep. I guess, being a man, he felt better asking what I thought. When I came over, your skin was on fire. We worked to remove your gown and Jack tried to cool your forehead and chest while I took off anything that wasn’t necessary for the sake of modesty—including your stockings.

“That’s when we discovered the bite. Oh, Ella, it was the most grotesque thing I’d ever seen or smelled—up until then that is. I saw it a few days later and couldn’t eat a crumb for the rest of the day. It was red and black and bloodied and the edges surrounding the black were half an inch thick with a whitish-yellow fluid.” She grimaced and shuddered at the same time. “It was as if the skin was decaying. Wes came to take a look at it and said it looked like a spider bite from one of those brown spiders with the fiddle-shaped marking on its back. I don’t know why, but their bite causes the flesh to die. Wes and Jack cleaned it as best they could with the limited amount of supplies they had on hand. The next day, Jack bought alcohol and tried to clean it again. But it was of no use, it kept spreading and your moments of consciousness were rare and always seemed to be confusing to you. On the fourth night, it was looking very grim.”

Allison bit her lip, a faraway expression on her face. “You should have seen him, Ella. The poor man had stayed in this room with you the entire time, refusing to accept help from anyone so he could rest.” A wobbly smile took her lips. “He even got in trouble the first day for not reporting to work because he’d been so distracted with trying to get your leg to heal.” She waved a hand through the air. “Anyway, that final night, when it was undeniably apparent that we were going to lose you, Jack had a decision to make.  For the first time in days, he left your bedside to go see a man named Dark Moon.”

“An Indian?” Ella gasped in horror. Never in her life had she ever heard of a soldier seeking out—and receiving help from—an Indian. It was positively dangerous.

“Yes. Gray went with him, while Wes stayed in here with you, me, and Mrs. Lewis. Colonel Lewis took the lookout. Talk about a very long four hours. My nails were all bleeding by the time they returned with some medicine from Dark Moon. Then he did it again—”

Ella no longer heard Allison’s words. She didn’t need to. She knew the rest. She recalled the dream she’d had. The one where she’d awakened to having a substance akin to lava being poured on her leg and being forced to drink a foul liquid at the hands of a stranger who wore a stained shirt and had a  calm, soothing voice. The stranger she knew she should recognize, but didn’t, and lost all memory of the details of his face as soon as she went to sleep again. He’d been the same stranger who’d touched her with a cool cloth when she was hot and who’d been kind enough to help her when she’d needed—

Suddenly another wave of emotion hit her like a sea storm in the gulf. That was Jack. All of those times, it was Jack. Kind and gentle. Attentive and persistent. Always ready with water or tea. His voice, apologetic and calming when torturing her. Careful when moving her. A sob clogged her throat. What had she done? He’d just spent who knows how long taking excellent care of her, and she’d scorned him and thrown the past in his face. He’d even tried to explain when he’d said something about lifting the sheet to look at something, and she’d snapped at him, accusing him of being a liar and demanding he leave her alone.

“...Colonel Lewis approved orders that he could be excused for a week after you awoke to make sure you could use your leg and get around.”

Allison’s last sentence shook Ella to the core.  “What have I done?” she choked, a series of sobs now wracking her body.

“Wh—what’s wrong?” Allison asked, genuine concern filling her voice.

“I—I... This morning....” She tried to catch her breath and think, but it was futile. So much made sense now. Why their room had more in it than the last time she’d looked around. He’d had nothing but time to unpack while she’d slept. Why everyone seemed so concerned about her and asked if she was all right all the time. She’d really been sick. Even why she was in a chemise she didn’t recognize. As she’d suspected, it likely wasn’t hers but was borrowed from one of the other ladies at the fort when they’d needed to change her clothes. With each new realization, another—harder—series of sobs wracked her body until she couldn’t breathe at all.

“There, there,” Allison soothed, wrapping her arms around Ella. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It is,” Ella sobbed. “I said—” sob— “I told him—” sob. She shook her head. “He must hate me.”

“No, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes, he does.” She buried her face against Allison’s shoulder. “I don’t belong here.”

“Would you stop with that?” Allison asked, not unkindly.

“I don’t deserve him,” Ella croaked.

Allison sputtered with laughter. “And to think at the start of this conversation, I’d have believed you were convinced that he didn’t deserve you.”

“He doesn’t. He deserves better. He deserves a woman who will listen to him and not shame and demean him in front of others.”

Silence broken only by a soft series of sobs filled the air for a few moments before Allison spoke again. “Is that to mean you’re blaming yourself for why Jack went back to work today?”

“Yes,” Ella cried. She then gave Allison an abbreviated version of the morning’s events and how she’d refused to listen to Jack and had insisted he quit using her as an excuse and return to work.

When she was done, Allison took a deep breath and gave her a quick squeeze. “Ella, Jack isn’t completely without feelings—or fault. If he didn’t tell you everything that happened, then he’ll be understanding. I promise.”

“I know that,” she said, knowing it was true even before she said it. Jack might have seemed irritated at her before, but he’d never come across as heartless or unforgiving. That still didn’t make it right. Words were so powerful. In one moment, they could seem so charged with love and be so fulfilling, while the next they could cut someone to the bone and cause their world to crumble. But of course, not all words held such power. Some words were spoken, but not truly felt. Would he believe her apology was genuine or just forgive her because she was his wife and it was expected of him? “I don’t know how to make this right,” she admitted at last.

“Perhaps you can start by asking the colonel to reinstate his time off?”

Ella frowned. “No. That’s selfish. I deserve to limp and crawl to where I need to go. He shouldn’t be made to take care of me.”

“Then don’t let him. Or at least don’t let him help you more than necessary.”

“Then what exactly is he supposed to do during those days? Ride his horse all day?”

“Sure, as long as you’re up there with him.”

That made little sense. “Why would I be on his horse with him?”

“Because your mission will be to woo him.”

~Chapter Twenty-Two~

Jack slid open the drawer in the desk that he shared with McCorkle and dug around for his matches. The sun was setting and he still had much work to do. After he’d parted company with Colonel Lewis, he’d gone to look for where Gray had taken his men and had been informed that Gray had marched them all south to investigate a rumored dispute. He could have gone after them, he supposed, but no one knew exactly where they’d gone and he didn’t wish to take a chance wandering through the Indian land alone. Instead, he’d gone to his office and sorted through the reports and mail on his desk.

Even without taking any sort of break, he still had a day’s worth of papers to sort through. He groaned and lit the two candles closest to him.

“You do know when the sun is so dim that you must light candles to see, it’s past time you went home?” Wes said from the doorway.

Jack blew out the match and dropped it into the tray at the bottom of the candle. “Do you need something?”

“I was just curious why you were down here working instead of with your wife.”

Wes hadn’t meant to, but he’d struck a nerve. “She prefers it that way,” Jack murmured, then signed his name to the bottom of a document and reached for another.

Wes slapped his hand down on top of the stack of papers in front of Jack. “What is this about, Jack? You know you cannot leave her to spend the evening alone.”

“I know. That’s why I made arrangements for her to have dinner companions.”

“The Lewises do not count as proper dinner companions for your wife, Jack. While they might be very pleasant people who I admire, I can hardly believe you thought it would be a comfortable arrangement for them to all eat in your room—without you,” Wes said, frowning.

“It’s Ella’s room, too, and I’m certain she was there.”

“Yes, I’m sure she was. But don’t you think it might have been uncomfortable for her to explain to the guests you invited that you weren’t going to be joining them? Or worse, when Colonel Lewis explained that to her? And don’t you even think to say you hadn’t thought of that, Jack. Even you are not that foolish to have not considered the possibility.”

“I had. But as I said, this is the arrangement she prefers.” He shrugged then grabbed the edge of the top sheet in the stack of papers Wes had his hand on and tugged it free.

Wes grabbed the paper from Jack’s hold. “I have better things to do with my evening than give you marital advice that even a boy would know. Now, put out the candles and go upstairs.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Jack forced a grin. “Wasn’t it you who said that absence made the heart grow fonder?”

“Well, in this case, it probably isn’t working and is likely only making her heart grow harder.”

“I doubt that’s possible,” he grumbled beneath his breath. “Wes, I know you don’t understand this because your situation was vastly different than mine, but it’s better this way.”

“Which way? You being down here and leaving your wife to spend her evening alone?”

“She’s not alone. I’d imagine that at least Allison, if not the Lewises, too, are with her. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Wes agreed, sitting. He sighed and dropped both hands into his lap. “This is what I tried to warn you about. This isn’t a place for ladies, Jack. You know that. There’s always someone locked in the stockade or a drunk standing with empty alcohol bottles on the barrel in front of the fort. I’ll even take Allison home the long way to avoid having to set eyes upon certain men. Women need protection, but it’s more than a physical thing. There aren’t a lot of women here and they have to find where they fit. Allison struggled with that because her life before coming here had been so vastly different than what was expected of her here. I learned at dinner tonight that Ella grew up living at different forts, but I don’t know if that’s a blessing for you or a curse. With her father’s position as commanding officer, she probably never really knew what conditions were like for the privates and commissioned officers.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish by locking yourself in this room.”

“I already told you—”

“If you’re trying to say that you’re following my advice, then I feel compelled to inform you that you’re only following part of it. I said I’d go to work; that way she’d be excited to see me when I returned. I never said I’d work into the night and let her spend it alone. That would only anger her.”

Jack twisted his lips. “Then she seems to be in the same state she was in when I left her this morning.”

“Have you considered that you’re the one at fault?”

“Yes, I’ve considered it, and then I realized that no, I’m not. At least not the only one,” he finished with a grumble. “This isn’t all my fault.”

“I never said it was.” Wes ran a hand over the day’s worth of stubble that had covered his chin. “You’ve had one of two attitudes with her: all or nothing. There has been no balance in your actions. You either shower her with attention or pretend not to care that she’s upset with you and ignore her completely.”

Jack frowned. “We’ve been married not even a week and a half, during which time, she’s been conscious for less than a collective two days and only not upset with me for a total of no more than six  waking hours. Just when was I supposed to find the balance, Wes? I couldn’t very well leave her when she was sick.”

“I never said you should have. What I meant is now that she’s better, you’d do well to find a balance with her. I know you wanted to stay with her to make sure she was healing properly and could get around. I’d be the same way if it were Allison. But perhaps you should leave that to the women so she can have a chance to make friends with them while you’re at work. Then, spend the evening with her. Marriage lasts forever, Jack. There is no need to rush things by spending so much time with her that the two of you will do nothing but argue—”

“I tried that. We played cards.”

“And how did that go?”

“Fine,” Jack ground out. Since when did Wes enjoy talking about relationships?

“Then play cards with her again—in your room, not in the lounge. Take her for a ride.” He grinned. “We have a rounders game coming up.”

Jack scoffed and shook his head. Wes and rounders.

“Whatever you do,” Wes continued. “Just take it slow. This fort is like none of the others. She needs time to adjust to being here and being married...and well, you.”

“Thanks,” Jack said dryly.

“You’re welcome.” Wes stood. “I know I’ve only been married a year and you might disregard everything I just said; but if nothing else, remember that like you when you first came to West Point to find where you belonged, Ella is doing the same. I don’t know what things were like for her where she came from, but she obviously took a chance in coming here. It might take more than the dresses you can bribe Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Ridgely to make for her, in order for her to find her place.”

Wes’ final words hit Jack like a punch to the gut. He knew Ella needed to find her place—which to his mind was right here with him. Forever. But what he didn’t know was her past. What had driven her to come here? She’d never said why she was leaving her life behind to be a mail order bride in her letters. Nor had he asked. It wasn’t that he had no interest in her past. He did. He had a lot of interest. He didn’t wish to seem rude and push her away. Now, however, it wouldn’t matter what questions he asked her. She already didn’t care much for him.

With a grimace, he pushed to his feet and made his way to their room. He half expected to see Colonel Lewis and his wife when he entered, but instead, the candles were out and Ella lay sleeping in their bed.

In the low haze of the moonlight spilling in through the break in the curtains, Jack undressed and crawled into bed. Tomorrow was a new day, another new beginning, and he certainly had no intention of spending it in the same torment he’d suffered today.

~Chapter Twenty-Three~

Ella woke up the following morning to the sound of knocking.

She looked around the room and realized that she was all alone. She gripped the sheet and pulled it higher over herself. After listening to some of the other wives’ stories yesterday, she had no real desire to make a sound and let people know she was in there alone.

“Ella?” came a muffled female voice through the door.

Ella breathed a sigh of relief. “Just a minute and I’ll unlock the door.” She grimaced as she tried to get out of bed. She touched her bare foot to the soft rug on the floor and tried to stand, but fell.

Less than a second later, the door was unlocked and all of the other wives were rushing in to help her.

Ella flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I can do this.” She tried to stand, but couldn’t, and had to accept help from Allison.

“We would have been here sooner,” Mrs. Lewis rushed, “but Jack only came to inform us you were here alone a few minutes ago. We all thought he’d be here with you.”

So did Ella. At dinner last night, she’d stumbled her way through a brief explanation of how she’d misunderstood the situation yesterday, and the colonel seemed agreeable to grant Jack his requested time off. When Jack didn’t return before the colonel and Mrs. Lewis took their leave, he’d said he’d talk to Jack in the morning about it.

“Did he say anything else?” Ella asked, idly rubbing her knee.

“No,” Sarah Ridgely, who was in her mid-thirties and was the wife of General Ridgely, said. “Just that he needed to be off to marching and asked if we wouldn’t mind spending the day with you.” She smiled. “Not that any of us mind, we’re glad to do it. But after what you’d mentioned yesterday afternoon, we assumed...”

Ella frowned. “I wonder why he’d rather march with his men than be here.”

“Perhaps George hasn’t had a chance to speak with him yet,” Mrs. Lewis offered. She set her sewing basket down on the table. “You didn’t wish to eat breakfast?”

“Pardon?”

Mrs. Lewis lifted a plate that was on the table. “It looks untouched.” She handed it to Ella.

“That’ll be the last time I drink any tea from Allison,” Ella murmured, setting the plate down beside her on the bed. “Not only do I not know when Jack came to bed last night, but I didn’t hear him bring me breakfast this morning.”

“Wes has the same kind of complaint when he drinks my tea. He says it makes him sleep like the dead.”

“It’s probably a good thing,” Sarah said as she threaded her needle. “That you slept so well, not that you missed breakfast with your husband.”

Ella sighed, then picked up the plate Jack had left for her. Sarah was right. It wasn’t such a good thing that she’d missed breakfast with Jack. She’d wanted to talk to him, even if he didn’t want to talk to her—which was abundantly clear after he’d avoided her for dinner and had arranged for her to eat with the Lewises. The dried fruit and chunks of cheese on the plate suddenly looked far less appetizing than they had a moment ago.

“Not to worry, m’dear, when Wes comes to bring us lunch today, I’ll ask him to send George by so I can ask why he hasn’t talked to Jack,” Mrs. Lewis said as she sewed a strand of fine lace around the cuff of a sleeve.

“No, that’s all right,” Ella blurted out, more to save her own pride. “He probably needs more time.”

Mrs. Lewis shrugged and a companionable silence filled the air as the three went about sewing. Mrs. Lewis and Sarah were making dresses, but Ella couldn’t tell what Allison was doing.

“Does Wes know to find you here for lunch, Allison?” Ella asked a few minutes later.

“He always joins me for lunch on Mondays and Thursdays at the Lewises. When he gets there and sees we’re not there, he’ll come over here.”

“Oh.”

The sewing continued.

“That’s a beautiful dress, Mrs. Lewis, is it for a niece?”

The color in Mrs. Lewis’ cheeks heightened. “Yes. Umm, I plan to send it to my niece back in...er...Richmond. Surely she’ll need a new dress for a ball, I should think.”

Allison fought to hide her smile. How strange.

“I’m sure she’ll love it and in such a beautiful, shimmery pink fabric, she’ll command the attention of all the beaus there.” She looked at the one Sarah was working on. It was simpler. Something one might wear every day, rather than to a special event. “Yours is a lovely color, too, Sarah. It’ll look beautiful on you.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Once again, Allison had a little smile on her lips.

“Don’t you think she’ll look beautiful in her dress, Allison?” Ella asked, not to make her uncomfortable, but to find out what on earth was going on between these three ladies.

“I think it would look very lovely on Sarah. It’s too bad she made it too small. Again.”

Sarah gasped, then giggled. “I didn’t realize I’d been so obvious.”

“Six such dresses in the past year?” She turned her attention to Mrs. Lewis. “I suspect the first ball that dress will be worn to is the one that will be hosted here in a few weeks.”

Mrs. Lewis started to laugh. “I suppose our secrets are out.”

“What secrets?” Ella asked, confused.

“I cannot sew,” Allison declared proudly. She held up the large piece of cloth in her hands. “This, is a tablecloth. Or it will be once I finish sewing the edges so it doesn’t fray. Even with the patient instruction of these two, this is still all I can master, and when Wes thinks I need a new dress, he bribes one of them to make it for me.” She smiled. “Wes might not know that I know this already, but I think the dress Sarah is working on is supposed to be a new summer dress for me; and the one in Mrs. Lewis’ lap isn’t for her niece to wear to a ball, but what I’ll be wearing to one.”

Ella laughed. “He truly doesn’t know that you know?”

“If he does, he pretends he doesn’t, otherwise I’d have to wear this—” she lifted the tablecloth in her hands— “to the ball or around the fort, and he certainly doesn’t want me to do that.”

“At least not outside of their room,” Mrs. Lewis commented with a wink, causing Allison and Ella to blush and Sarah to giggle.

“Soon, it will be your day,” Mrs. Lewis said to Ella.

“You mean to sew a dress for Allison?”

“No, I meant...er...you’ll know once you’re feeling better and Jack initiates intimacies again,” Mrs. Lewis explained.

A slight level of discomfort came over the room. Ella had a basic idea of what Mrs. Lewis meant, not all of the details, of course, but enough. However, she doubted very much with how things stood between them that he’d ever wish to initiate intimacies with her. She swallowed and sent a pleading glance to Allison to say something to change the subject.

“So do you?” Allison burst out. “Know how to sew, that is?”

“Of course! I can even try to teach you, if you’d like.”

“That’s all right. I think Wes has resigned himself to the fact that I will never learn to sew anything more complex than a lopsided skirt, which is why he continues to ask these ladies to help me.” She flashed a rueful grin. “I did learn to cook, however.”

“All right, but if you change your mind, let me know. In the meantime, I don’t suppose any of you have any spare fabric in a color Allison would like to wear, do you?”

***

The morning passed quickly with sewing and female banter. As lunch neared, Allison helped Ella change her chemise and put on a gown. Her leg was still weak and it was hard for her to stand unsupported, but she was tired of just lying in bed and letting everyone gaze at her buried under the covers.

Though she’d never admit it, she was slightly disappointed when Wes arrived for lunch and Jack wasn’t with him. She shouldn’t have been disappointed. She knew he wasn’t coming, but there was still the touch of sadness that he hadn’t.

The afternoon seemed to go as fast as it took for a cotton plant to bloom. Or in other words: slow.

Around two, Colonel Lewis came to collect his wife and Sarah to escort them back to the cabins of the commanding officers so they could begin dinner for their husbands. Allison had taken that time to run next door and gather the ingredients she’d need for her dinner and offered to make enough for the four of them to dine together. Ella wanted to protest and make dinner for her and Jack herself, but knew she didn’t have either the strength or the ingredients.

Ella looked over at the large bowl of apples which were positioned on the far end of the table. “Do you think it would be too late to make apple pastries?”

“I suppose not,” Allison said. “I’ll have to start on them first, so they’ll have plenty of time to cool.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that I expected you to make them. You’re making dinner. I’ll make the pastries.”

Allison bit her lip. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”

“Of course.” Ella placed her hands on the back of the chair for support and stood. She stilled a moment to find her balance. Though her leg didn’t throb or cripple her with sharp pain, there was still a dull ache that surrounded her wound and was especially strong when she tried to use her leg. She assumed that was from the damaged muscles trying to work.

“Why don’t you sit and I’ll gather the supplies,” Allison offered.

Ella blushed but didn’t argue. She sat down at the table and rattled off a list of things she’d need.

“You chose well,” Allison murmured.

“Oh, you mean because of the apples that grow around here this time of the year?”

“No, I mean with Jack,” Allison clarified, laying all of Ella’s desired ingredients on the table. “He had every single thing you needed.”

Ella paused in her reach for the flour. Allison was right. She had chosen well, but more than anything, she wished he felt the same way about his choice. She dipped her measuring cup into the flour and willed those black thoughts from her mind. It was her own fault that he regretted his choice, and it was now up to her to convince him he hadn’t been wrong to choose her.

~Chapter Twenty-Four~

If Jack’s stomach had a mind of its own, it would undoubtedly believe that Jack’s throat had been closed off, making it impossible to eat. Breakfast had consisted of a handful of nuts and an apple, and he’d missed lunch entirely when a scuffle between his men had to be settled. Such a small amount of breakfast wasn’t enough sustenance for a man of his size or physical exertion.

Unfortunately, he had another hour before he’d be off work and could go have a snack before dinner.

Conjuring up thoughts of the most vile, inedible dishes he’d ever been served to stave off his hunger, he began to fill out the last bit of paperwork on his desk.

The distinct sound of a metal fork scraping against a tin plate rent the air, sending the hair on the back of Jack’s neck straight up and making his stomach clench.

“Mmmm,” Gray said, licking his lips.

Jack stared at the infuriating man from across his desk. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying an afternoon treat,” he said in a tone that would suggest innocence, though they both knew Gray was never innocent of anything. He took another slow, agonizing bite.

“Why must you torture me?”

“I’m not. I’m just enjoying a pastry. Apple, your favorite.” Gray took another bite. One so small, he’d bet a mouse could have consumed more in one such nibble. “Last piece, too.”

“I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

Gray shrugged and kept eating. “I’d offer you some, but since you ate all of mine last time—” He shrugged again.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to hold a grudge?” Jack mumbled then returned to his work.

For some reason, the room suddenly seemed very quiet. While Gray had no problem teasing and joking and saying whatever comment first entered his mind, the more absurd and taboo, the better, there were several things about himself he never spoke of. Ever. One such topic was his past. There was speculation, of course, but that’s all it was, because nobody dared asked, and he never seemed to volunteer anything.

“Actually,” Gray said in a low, nearly inaudible tone. “My ma taught me many things, but not holding a grudge wasn’t one of them.” He gave a careless shrug and grinned. “Neither was sharing.” He took another bite. “Besides, Ella didn’t say I had to share.”

Jack snapped his head up with such vigor he thought he pulled a muscle in his neck. “What did you just say?”

Gray stuffed another bite into his mouth and chewed with deliberate slowness; the corners of his eyes crinkling in merriment despite Jack’s stare. He finished his bite and brought his fork back to the pastry. “Ella gave it to me,” he said simply, breaking off another piece.

Jack reached out and grabbed Gray’s wrist, stopping him from eating any more of his pastry. “Why?”

Gray pulled his hand free of Jack’s grasp. “Because I was the one who was there.”

“Where?” Jack said between clenched teeth.

“Your room.” At Jack’s scowl, Gray’s smile grew. “One of my men sliced his leg open while being a fool with his bayonet. Wes suggested that I use some of the ointment from Dark Moon instead of sending him to the medic. When I went to your room to get it, I asked Ella about the pastries that were cooling in the window and she said I could have one.”

“Did she send one for me?” The words were out before he could stop them, and it had nothing to do with his stomach nearly eating itself. He wanted to know if she’d softened toward him any.

“Well,” Gray drawled. “That’s a funny story...” He put the fork to his mouth and licked off the apple filling. “She did give me two—and said one was for you. But, since you ate my last pastry, I thought I’d just eat yours this time and even up the score.”

Elation shot through Jack. He couldn’t care less that Gray had eaten both of their pastries, at least she’d thought to send one.

He jumped to his feet and quickly straightened the papers on his desk.

Across from him, Gray said something, but Jack didn’t bother to listen. His interest in Gray wasn’t very high at the moment. His interest in Ella, however, was. He finished tiding up, then snatched his plate from Gray’s hold and strode for the door.

He slowed his steps as he got close to his room so not to appear impatient. Then, with a light knock first to let them know he was about to enter, he unlocked the door and walked inside. Then froze.

The aroma of fresh baked bread, beefsteak, potatoes and apple pastries permeated the air so completely that he almost thought he’d get full just by breathing it all in. Almost. At the table, Allison and Ella sat looking at him.

He shifted uncomfortably and set the plate on the dresser. He hadn’t thought about how uncomfortable it’d be to enter after what had happened yesterday. He cleared his throat and removed his shako from his head. “It smells good, ladies.” He set his hat down and quickly removed his coatee.

“Let’s just hope it tastes good, too,” Allison said, getting up. “Here, why don’t you sit down here and I’ll go check on the food.”

Jack followed her order and sat down across from Ella, then grinned. “You have a bit of flour—” He reached forward and used his fingertips to brush off the flour that had gotten onto her forehead and cheeks, marveling at the way she blushed when he did so. “There.”

“Thank you,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She reached for a lock of her fallen hair and twisted it around her forefinger. “How was work?”

“Good. Life in the west is hard for an army officer. Today I managed to get a paper cut on just about every one of my fingers.” He turned his hands over so he could examine the pads of his fingers. “All but two, it looks like.”

“Wes said you had a stack of paperwork on your desk as high as the watchtower,” Allison commented.

“I did,” Jack agreed. “Fortunately, I finished the last of it this afternoon, and tomorrow, my biggest threat of injury will be being stung by a bee or shot by one of my own men.”

Ella’s eyes went wide. “Surely they’re not all bad shots or careless.”

“No,” Jack agreed. “Not all of them are. But it only takes one.”

“Well, I don’t think—” She pursed her lips together.

“Don’t think what?” Jack prompted.

Ella flushed. “I was just thinking that I don’t think they should allow men who cannot properly handle their weapons to join the army. Or at least be given a post. It’s dangerous.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But, I didn’t know how to handle a weapon when I first started, either.” She bit her lip at his words, and he reached forward for her hand, hoping to assure her that he’d taken no offense at her observation. “It’s not always easy to handle some of the weapons we’re issued. The army decides on new weapons every few years, and while some of the old ones are still used, they want the men to learn to use the new ones. Their initial training only covers how to shoot the newest rifle at the time, which may or may not even be what we use out here.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sure you might remember how long it took for supplies to get to you when you were living at a fort, but I assure you, it takes much longer out here.”

She nodded her head, her eyes still slightly downcast and her teeth were still worrying her lip.

Regret stabbed at him. He hadn’t meant to make her feel like a fool or belittle her opinion. He just wanted to explain it. “Your pastries look good,” he blurted with a grin.

She gave him a queer look. “Did you happen to see Gray this afternoon?”

Right. She’d sent him a pastry, too, likely expecting that he’d eaten it. “I did, but he ate mine for me.”

Her face fell slightly, and then she forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think that you might not like them.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do you even like sweets?”

“I do. And I’m sure I’ll love your pastries.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Apple filling is my favorite.”

“Then why did you let Gray eat it?”

“I didn’t,” he said, twisting his lips into what he hoped she’d know was a lighthearted snarl. “Almost two weeks ago, we had pastries at dinner—a real rarity around here, believe me—and apparently Gray was saving his. But he picked the wrong place to store it...and well...I’m sure you can guess the rest.”

The left corner of her mouth tipped up into a hint of a smile. “So he ate yours today?”

“Yes.” Jack scowled. “Right in front of me, too.”

A peal of giggles filled the room and a broad grin, he’d only glimpsed once before, crossed her lips, making it worth the agony of watching Gray enjoy his wife’s pastry. “Well, then, I suppose that justice has been served and you shall get one of these.” She reached over where he was still holding her hand and picked up the platter of pastries, which were beckoning for him to devour them. “But, not until you eat all of your dinner.” She licked her index finger, then pressed it to the plate and slid it around until she’d collected a good bit of crumbs from the flakey crust. Then the minx lifted it to her lips, and with a slowness that could be nothing other than deliberate, she slid it past her lips and sucked off the crumbs.

Desire coiled in his stomach and his rod hardened with an urgency he’d never experienced before. Wonderful. They were about to have dinner guests and he had a throbbing erection. He started. Dinner guests. He slowly moved his head to look over his shoulder to where Allison was tending to the food in the fire. “Wes should be joining us soon.” He winced at the raggedness of his voice, then turned back to face Ella. “I’ll just put these back over here so they’re out of the way.” He winked at her. “They’re very tempting so close.”

Ella nodded slowly but didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Wes said as he entered the room. He walked over to where his wife stood and kissed her. “It looks good, Allison.”

“I can’t take full credit. Ella gave me the recipe and made pastries.”

“Those look heavenly,” Wes said, rubbing his stomach.

“Well, you’ll have to ask Jack if he’ll spare you one. Apparently, he’s had to sacrifice two already and he might not wish to let you have one when we leave.”

“When we leave?” Wes asked, taking the words straight from Jack’s mouth.

Allison removed the iron skillet from the fire and set it down on top of the folded rag in the middle of the table. “You didn’t think we were going to eat in here and get crumbs all over their bed did you?”

“Well, no, I’d planned to get them only on Jack’s side,” Wes said with a grin.

“Take the pastry,” Jack said, casting Allison a grateful look for her scheme to give him and Ella time alone. She didn’t have to. They had plenty of room if Wes went next door for two more chairs, and they all knew that.

Allison winked at him, quickly made up plates for her and Wes, and then they left, leaving Jack and Ella alone. Suddenly, it felt strangely similar to the time he’d asked Anna Marie if she’d meet him in the dining room of the Plaza hotel and they had dinner together. Except, this wasn’t some secret meeting between two people who were vaguely interested in each other and were trying to steal away to see the other by dressing up and pretending to already be married. He and Ella were married, and though he’d spent just as much time in her conscious company as he had in Anna Marie’s, he knew his interest in her was nowhere as mild as his interest in Anna Marie had been.

~Chapter Twenty-Five~

Dinner went well.

Ella had been a bit worried at first when Allison made up some silly excuse for her and Wes to leave. But their absence allowed Ella and Jack time to have a much-needed talk. Only she didn’t know how to say what she needed to say.

She was certain that Colonel Lewis had spoken to him by now about his time off, and for some reason, he hadn’t claimed it. That stung a little, but she supposed she deserved it for how she’d treated him.

“Thank you for dinner, Ella,” Jack said, clearing the plates.

“I didn’t actually make it,” she reminded him.

“No, but you did give Allison suggestions, and you provided wonderful dinner conversation.”

“I had no idea that talk of growing fruits and vegetables excited you.”

“When you got to the part where the boys on the plantation used the onion as a ball to bat around with a fallen tree branch, you had my full attention.”

“Of course, I did,” she said with a slight giggle. “I have yet to meet a man who doesn’t enjoy hitting or kicking.”

“You?” Jack croaked, looking startled.

“Me?”

Jack nodded, a pained expression on his face.

“Jack?”

Jack reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it. Well, perhaps not allowed. Well, she had, allowed him to take her hand, that is, but allowed sounded so...begrudging or resigned. And she certainly wasn’t either of those about his touch. She’d quite enjoyed it earlier when he’d held her hand. It had excited her. Then, he’d started acting strange. His hand squeezed hers, gaining her attention. “You said that you hadn’t met a man who didn’t enjoy hitting and kicking, I just wondered if you’d been the object of their fury.”

“Jack, I wasn’t talking about hitting people,” she said slowly. “I was talking about balls.”

Relief came over his face, and then he grinned. “Well, some people have balls.”

She stared at him for a moment, then started laughing at his bizarre statement. “You must not have gotten enough sleep last night.”

“Not as much as you did,” he quipped. He ran his thumb over her row of knuckles, sending warmth and prickles of awareness skating up her arms. “Thank you for your clarification.”

“I’d be grateful for yours, too, but I doubt you can offer any,” she remarked, squeezing his hand. Some people had balls. What on earth did that mean?

He gave her an odd look, and then something flashed in his eyes. Something quick and dark, dangerous almost. “I’d love to give you clarification, but I don’t think tonight is the night.”

Awareness of him and his masculinity shot through her. Thrilling her and startling her all at the same time. “If you’re having trouble sleeping, I can borrow some tea from Allison,” she said, needing a distraction.

“No, thank you. I prefer coffee.”

“I can make you some, if you’d like,” she offered.

“No. I can make it. You rest.”

Ella waved her hand through the air. “It won’t hurt me to make coffee. You heat the water, and I’ll do the rest.”

He arched a brow. “Is there much else besides boiling the water and brewing the bean?”

“I have a recipe.”

He gave a quick glance to their little stack of dirty dinner plates. There wasn’t a crumb remaining, hopefully a good sign that he enjoyed her recipes. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

While Jack poured water into a carafe to heat, Ella turned around in her chair and pulled a few items off the shelf. Coffee was just a roasted bean steeped in hot water, but one could add a pinch of this and a dash of that to it to improve its taste.

When she was done grinding and mixing, Jack set the carafe down in front of her. “If you’d like it hotter, I’ll put it back on, but I hate having to wait an hour to drink it.”

She grinned and dropped her little packet of grounds in to steep. “It’ll just be a few minutes.”

He nodded and sat down across from her, resting his hands on the table, but not touching hers. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Ella sucked in a sharp breath. “A-all right.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan to ask if you kissed a boy under the oak tree in the back corner of your plantation.”

She clapped both hands over her mouth and made her eyes go wide. “However did you know?”

He chuckled then reached for her hand again. “Why did you become a mail order bride?”

All the blood rushed to Ella’s face. How would he respond to the rejection she’d faced? Would he think she deserved it? “I didn’t find a man who suited,” she hedged.

He knit his brows. “Did you look?”

Stung, she pulled her hand from his. “Yes, I did. I just didn’t find any that—” a bubble of nervous excitement caught in her throat and she made the most unladylike sound— “I just didn’t find the right one,” she finished.

Jack reached for her hand again. “I wasn’t trying to imply that I think there’s something undesirable about you. I was just curious about your past and why you’d want to leave and come here.”

“In my own defense, I didn’t know exactly what would be waiting when I arrived.”

He grinned. “I suppose not. I do hope you’re finding it more enjoyable than you originally thought you might.”

She patted the top of his hand. “It’s like a fungus—it’s growing on me.”

Jack’s laughter filled the room, and her heart swelled. Not wanting him to see how much it affected her, she took the lid off the carafe and removed the packet of grounds she’d dropped in. She probably should have taken them out sooner, but it’d still be drinkable. She poured them each a cup and slid his over to him.

He picked it up and gave it a whiff. “Mmm. It smells good.”

“Drink some,” she encouraged.

Jack lifted the cup to his lips and took a long swallow. Then, he set it down, poked out his lower lip and nodded. “It’s a touch strong, but that's all right. It'll put some hair on a man's chest.”

“Something you clearly need,” she said, then her hand came over her mouth with an echoing pop and her eyes went wide. “I—I—I—”

Chuckling, Jack waved her off. “It's all right that you enjoyed the sight of my bare chest so much the memory is forever in your mind for your future viewing pleasure.  Though—” he leveled his dark, intense eyes on hers— “I certainly wouldn't be opposed if you'd return the favor.”

***

Damn. He’d said the wrong thing. Something about her earlier explanation regarding why she’d become a mail order bride hadn’t set well with him. Her actions all evening had been a strange combination of experience and innocence. Then she’d evaded his question, spurring him on. Not that it wasn’t true. He’d certainly enjoy the opportunity to feast his eyes upon her naked body, but maybe he shouldn’t have told her.

“Perhaps it’s time for bed,” he suggested.

“Haven’t you already done that?”

“Gone to bed?” He made a show of looking at the bed and then down at the dining chair he was in, which was still scooted up to the table. “No, I don’t think I have.”

“Not that.” She licked her lips and blushed, but held his gaze. “Didn’t you see my—my—my—breasts when you cared for me while I was sick?”

Now it was his turn to have a heated blush creep up his face. He couldn’t deny it. Nor would he want to. He refused to give in to the urge to tear his eyes away. He couldn’t do that. No, he wouldn’t do that. It was the cowardly way, and he was not a coward. “Yes.” But it wasn’t as if he’d seen her naked because she wanted to share her body with him. It was out of necessity, nothing more, and not enjoyable in the least. She didn’t need to know that though.

A warm drop of liquid hit his wrist, jerking him back to present. He blinked and realized that Ella was crying. Shock, then confusion, then irritation, then anger ran through him. She was crying because he’d seen her without her clothes? Was she addled or did she hold him in that much disdain?

He abruptly let go of her hand. How ungrateful could she be?

What did she expect from him? Was he supposed to have let her stay in her soiled garments? Or worse, just let her die? He opened his mouth to say something—what, he didn’t know—and realized his jaw hurt. He’d been so upset he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been clamping his jaw so hard.

“I didn’t do it for my personal enjoyment,” he practically barked.

“I know,” she sobbed. She sniffled and wiped under her eyes with her knuckles. “Jack, I—I don’t know what to say.”

Neither did he. All he could do was stare at her.

“When Colonel Lewis came yesterday, I didn’t know how sick I’d been. I mean, I knew, but I thought it was just an awful, awful dream. Then, when Allison told me...” Sobs came harder, faster. “I don’t know what to say other than to tell you how very sorry I am for...everything.”

In less than a second, the brick wall he’d erected on false grounds around his heart crumbled. He stood and scooped her out of her chair, then brought her to sit on his lap on the edge of the bed. “Ella, it’s all right. I’m not upset with you about that.”

For some reason, that made the strange woman he’d married cry harder and say something inaudible about how he should be.

He rubbed her back with slow even strokes. “Ella, I promise, it’s all right,” he soothed in her ear. “We all say or do things without being fully informed sometimes.” He snorted. “I’m the worst.”

Something akin to laughter emerged from somewhere in the vicinity of her tucked head, and fortunately for him, her cries had subsided to gentle sobs.

Jack moved onto the bed until he was able to lie down, then pulled Ella with him and held her close the way he’d wanted to since he’d first set eyes on her.

~Chapter Twenty-Six~

“All right, boys, get into position to shoot!” Jack hollered to his row of men.

His men moved into position and a smile of satisfaction came over Jack’s face. More than a week with Gray and they were still the competent men he’d trained them to be.

“Take aim. Fire!”

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Reload!”

Click, click, shhhhh, pop. Click, click, shhhhh, pop. Click, click, shhhhh, pop. Click, click, shhhhh, pop.

“Aim.” He paused but a moment. “Fire!”

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Reload!” He dismounted his horse and walked among his men. “It goes faster if you hold it like this,” he murmured to one of his newest men.

The man’s face reddened, and then he took his rifle back and aimed it to shoot.

“Fire!”

Another round of shots rang out.

“Good shot, Travis.” He walked down the row. “To your knees, soldiers” he commanded.

His men took to their knees and waited for the next order. “Reload.”

The men reloaded.

“Aim.” He walked the aisle and adjusted the shaking hands of one of his men. “Steady,” he murmured. “It’s just practice.” He straightened. “Fire!”

“I surrender, I surrender,” Gray hollered as he approached, arms lifted in the air.

Jack shook his head. He doubted Gray had surrendered to anything in his life. “Yes?”

“Colonel Lewis wants to see you.”

Jack groaned. Yesterday, the Colonel had wanted to see him no less than half a dozen times, each time just as uncomfortable as the last. “All right, you continue with this. If I don’t return, please come save me.”

“I don’t think you’ll need my saving. You seem to be a stronger, more capable man than I originally thought.”

Jack took pride in his friend’s words. He knew they weren’t based on the physical strength he’d exhibited during their fight, but he was finally admitting that he believed Jack’s intentions toward Ella were sincere, which surprisingly meant a lot to him coming from a guy like Gray.

Colonel Lewis was waiting at his desk when Jack arrived. “Sir?”

“I just wanted to remind you that tomorrow you will be taking the day off. Our game of rounders depends on it.”

Jack grinned. Since that awkward morning when Ella had told Colonel Lewis that Jack needed to be at work, the man had tried multiple times each day to get him to take the days off anyway, claiming Ella would be glad for the company. Perhaps she would, Jack supposed. Sewing all day couldn’t be fun, and with such a limited population on the fort, there couldn’t possibly be very much for Ella and her friends to gossip about. But, he liked this arrangement better. He’d enjoyed those few joy-filled hours with Ella last night, even if he spent them tormented with desire for her. He certainly didn’t wish to compromise what he had by rushing into spending all day with her.

“I understand,” Jack said.

“Good.” Colonel Lewis narrowed his eyes. “You do intend to play your turn, do you not?”

“Yes. At least this time.” He grinned. “But when Ella’s better, I just might let her bat.”

“You’d better not,” Colonel Lewis growled, scowling. “Wes could always be counted on to help us win, but now he throws his turn away by letting his wife bat for him.” His eyes lit. “Perhaps now that Ella’s here, Allison won’t wish to play. Heaven knows how many times I’ve tried to bribe Lucille with the promise to retire after my time is up if she’d go sit with Allison and keep her out of the game.” He lowered his voice and grumbled something to himself that Jack took as his dismissal.

Jack shook his head as he walked away. He’d missed last week’s game when Ella was sick and was actually looking forward to playing tomorrow.

“By the way,” Colonel Lewis called, halting Jack. “I hope Ella was feeling well enough to spend the day with Lucille over at our cabin.”

Jack turned to face his commanding officer. “Yes, sir, she was. She’s the one who suggested it and asked me to help her walk over there.”

Colonel Lewis cocked his head to the side. “Do you always do what she asks?”

“When it’s reasonable, yes, sir.” He had a suspicion last night that Colonel Lewis’ prodding for him to reconsider spending these few days with Ella was the product of Ella talking to Colonel Lewis. Helping her over to the Lewises to spend the day with the ladies sewing was reasonable, but taking a week off of work wasn’t. “Is that all, sir?”

“No. Here, bring these to Gray, please. He needs to gather a dozen men and ride this out to Fort Smith.” He picked up a packet of papers from his desk and handed them to Jack.

As instructed, Jack took the bundle to Gray and gave him the colonel’s message, then went to resume target practice in the beautiful May sunshine. Not too hot, nor too windy. Perfect weather.

Perhaps Ella would like to spend some time outside this evening before dinner. A smile took his lips. He had the perfect idea.

***

Michaela pressed her hand against her stomach in hopes of settling it from the constant sway of the carriage. One would think she’d be used to it after all the traveling she’d been subjected to as a child. But, apparently, the further west one went, the worse the roads. “How much farther?”

Pa peeked out the red velvet curtains with gold fringe that hung over the windows in the carriage. “We should be halfway through Arkansas by nightfall. Then, we’ll get to Fort Smith tomorrow. It’s only half a day’s journey from there, I’d say. But we’ll probably stay there a few days to rest.”

Michaela gave a weak nod. When she’d first insisted that she accompany Pa, she had no idea the journey would be so bumpy and she’d feel so battered by the time they arrived. Not that it mattered too much that she’d insisted on coming. Pa hadn’t even argued with her about it, which likely meant he’d already decided she was coming with him before she’d said anything.

She blew out a breath and looked out the window to find something to distract her from the horrible stomach pains and the intolerable silence in the carriage, which had been the crippling tone since they’d left Savannah only a few days ago. For most travelers, it would take no less than two weeks to get to Fort Gibson from Savannah, possibly three, depending on the weather and condition of the roads. General Samuel Davis didn’t concern himself with trivial things such as weather. They were rolling down the road just as the first rays of sunshine started to break and didn’t stop for the night until late into the night when travel became too dangerous. Traveling with him had always been this way.

“Do I frighten you, Michaela?”

Her father’s sudden question and uneasy tone startled her. She licked her lips. “N-no. Why?”

He didn’t look convinced. “I just wondered why you and Ella thought to keep this from me.”

“It was not my secret to tell,” she said, meeting his eyes.

His green eyes registered the undertone of her statement. Just like her, he had not forgotten that she held one of his secrets. One that he wouldn’t like anyone else to know, she’d wager.

“Then is Ella frightened of me?”

Michaela sighed. “No. I don’t think she left without telling you because she was too afraid of your wrath, exactly. She did say something. Last winter, she brought it up at dinner, claiming that if she couldn’t find a husband that year, she’d become a mail order bride.”

A pained expression came over Pa’s face. He remembered the conversation. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for her to marry, any more than I understand your reluctance.”

Michaela grinned. “My reluctance is my choice. Her difficulty might be because of you.”

“How so?”

“How many men do you think wish to have you as a father-in-law?”

Pa frowned and Michaela would have felt bad for her words, but they were the truth. “I didn’t realize I was such an unlikeable man.”

“You’re not,” she said, frowning. “It’s just that you’re very intimidating.” She sighed and racked her brain for how to word what she wanted to say. “When Virginia and Mary were looking for husbands, Ma was still alive. She softened you—”

“She most certainly did not.”

“Let me finish, if you please.” She ignored the way he pursed his lips and continued. “Ma had a way about her that made potential suitors not seem so put off by you.”

“Well, thank you, Michaela. I’m glad I now know your true opinion of me,” he said in a dry tone.

“That didn’t come out right.” She sighed. “Pa, we’re not all military men. Those under your command chose to be commanded about when they enlisted. Ella’s suitors didn’t.”

“So you think I was too hard on them?”

Michaela arched a brow. “Pa, you used to invite them over to discuss—in detail—their plans for their future after they married your daughter.”

“I might not have been very encouraging to any of them, but I never told a single one that they couldn’t ask her,” he said, scowling.

“No. But do you think any of them wanted to ask her to marry them after such an uncomfortable afternoon with you?”

“Then it’s for the best they didn’t ask. If they were put off by such a meeting, then they weren’t very serious about her.”

Michaela couldn’t argue with him about that. She’d often suspected Ella’s early suitors were interested in her merely because Pa had no male issue to leave the plantation to when he died and were hoping to acquire it. This plan probably changed when they realized that they’d have to endure Pa and his probing questions and penetrating eyes until that time came, and even then, it wasn’t a guarantee. The later ones might have had the same intent, or more heartbreaking, their actions had been out of spite for Pa; but either way, they had known that treating his youngest daughter that way would hurt and embarrass him. She refused to believe that none of the young men had any sort of attraction to Ella. Sure, she wasn’t as striking as their older sisters, but without doubt she was beautiful and had a certain charm about her personality.

“What of you?”

Michaela started. “Pa, I have no wish to discuss my marriage prospects right now.”

“Good, because I wasn’t asking,” he smiled. “Do you think I’ve been too hard on you and your sisters? Too demanding? Intimidating?”

“At times.”

He nodded once and lowered his lashes as if he were in deep contemplation.

Time passed; how quickly or slowly, Michaela didn’t know. All she knew was the silence in the carriage wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable now as it had been since the moment they pulled out of their drive in Savannah.

“Now that we’ve discussed my shortcomings, shall we discuss your reluctance to court?”

~Chapter Twenty-Seven~

Ella strove to keep the blush off of her cheeks, but every time her eyes strayed to her purse, she couldn’t help it!

“Ella, do you feel all right? You look flushed,” Mrs. Lewis remarked, frowning.

Ella cleared her throat to squash the nervous giggle that was building. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Allison asked from beside her. Her face was so scrunched up in confusion that Ella truly wanted to laugh. But she couldn’t. For if she did, she’d have to tell them all why, and she didn’t want to do that.

“I need to talk to you later,” Ella whispered to Allison.

“All right. Is something wrong?” She glanced at the other two ladies across the room. “Do you need some help with something personal?”

“No,” Ella rushed to say. She’d been regaining her strength the past few days and could handle some tasks—such as seeing to her needs and unpacking some of her bags—without help. “It’s more of a question than anything.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, you can ask whenever you’d like.”

“I will. In private.”

“Just don’t forget. I’m intrigued now.”

“And so are we,” Sarah murmured.

Ella snapped her head up, horror washing over her at the little smile on Sarah’s face. “I—I—I—”

“Didn’t think we could hear?” Sarah’s smile became a full grin. “I might be a few years older than you, but as the Philadelphia Miss I was trained to be, I can still hear whispers.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, I promise,” Ella rushed to say. There were only four women at this fort. It would not be in anyone’s best interest—especially Ella’s—to alienate one of them, and the fastest, most effective way to do that was with gossip.

“I know that, dear. But nonetheless, I’m curious.” She shrugged. “But you don’t have to share, if you don’t wish to.”

Ella licked her lips. Sarah and Mrs. Lewis were officers’ wives, too. They’d know the answer to her question just as easily as Allison. She’d been reluctant to ask them though because they’d been married to their officers longer than Ella, and she didn’t want them to think it was a silly question. Pushing past her unease, Ella reached for her purse. “This morning while Jack was out at the well getting us some water, I was unpacking some of my stockings and such, putting them into the drawers, and I found this in Jack’s drawer. I’m not sure exactly what it is or where he wears it.” She pulled out the little packet of brown paper that was wrapped around the most bizarre, flattened tubular object she’d ever seen and held it up.

Mrs. Lewis furrowed her brows. “Paper?”

Sarah coughed. “I think she’s talking about what’s in the paper, Lucille.”

“What’s in the paper,” Mrs. Lewis asked, setting her sewing down and holding her hand out toward Ella.

Ella was about to give it to the other woman so she could see it, because she didn’t think she could describe it accurately, nor did she wish to try. However, just as she was about to give it to the older woman, Allison’s hand came over Ella’s wrist and lowered her hand. “Put that back in your purse, Ella,” she said quietly.

Ella’s face flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t expected Allison to be so...so...dismissive about it. Stung, she put it away, then turned her eyes back to her work, too humiliated to look back up at any of the other ladies.

“That’s not part of his official uniform,” Allison said a moment later. “But it seems to be a standard issue for around here.”

Sarah sputtered with laughter and hot tears pricked the back of Ella’s eyes. Perhaps she’d made a mistake thinking she’d become their friend.

“Ella?”

She ignored whoever spoke and continued sewing, which was hard to do without pricking herself as the tears blurred her vision.

“Ella,” Allison repeated, touching her shoulder.

Ella’s first instinct was to shrug in a way that would push Allison’s hand off, but she didn’t wish to make the situation worse.

“Ella, we’re not laughing at you,” Allison said again. “It’s just... Well, it might be better if Jack explains what that is and its use to you.”

Despite the embarrassment she still felt, Ella lifted her eyes and saw the cautious expression on Allison’s face and the compassionate one on Sarah’s. Just as she turned her gaze to Mrs. Lewis, her blank expression suddenly turned to surprise. “Oh, I know what that is! It’s a sheath, isn’t it?”

“A wh-what?” Ella asked.

“A sheath,” Mrs. Lewis said airily. “He puts it over his...er...gun when he wants to practice firing it without doing any harm, so to speak.”

“Well, there you have it,” Sarah chirped.

Ella nodded and resumed her sewing. But only for a minute before the door opened behind her and a parade of officers made up of a general, a colonel, a captain and a lieutenant came in to greet their wives.

“How do you feel?” Jack said, sinking to his haunches in front of her.

“Good.” She briefly considered giving him a quick kiss like the other husbands and wives were exchanging but didn’t know how he’d feel about such a display. He’d held her hand and wrapped her in his arms on a few occasions but had never hugged her just to hug her, nor kissed her. She cleared her throat and her thoughts simultaneously. “I would have stood to greet you, if you’d given me but a moment.”

“Does that mean you feel up to going for a little walk and spending some time outside?”

“I think so.”

He grinned. “Good. After our conversation last night, I thought I’d teach you how to fire my gun.”

“Truly?”

***

Her excitement nearly knocked Jack over. He wasn’t sure if she’d really like to learn to shoot his pistol or not, but when he’d been out shooting with his men today, he’d realized that she might actually need to learn how. “Absolutely.” He extended his hand and helped her to her feet. “Do you need to run to our room for anything first?”

“No and neither do you,” she said with a broad grin.

He had no idea how she’d know if he did or didn’t need to go back there, but didn’t want to question it too much. Perhaps she had a surprise waiting for him there for when they returned tonight.

Jack led her away from the commanding officers’ cabins and around the eastern side of the barracks until they came to where he’d left a target from this afternoon and had ordered one of his men to set up a stool for her.

“Thank you,” Ella said, resting on the stool.

He smiled at her and took his unloaded gun from his gun belt. “We’ll start with my pistol, and if you like it and want to learn to shoot a musket, we can come back another day.” At her nod, he laid his pistol in his broad palm and used his free hand to point. “This is the simplest pistol I have. Grip. Barrel. Cock. Chamber. Trigger.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a musket ball. “This is what we shoot. I’m sure you already knew that, though.” He flashed her a quick grin and slipped the ball back into his pocket. “To make the balls fire and fly across the field, they need gunpowder and to be greased. Fortunately, for you, I won’t show you how to measure all of that today.” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out one of the little cylinders of gunpowder and a musket ball all rolled up tightly into paper. “I made about a dozen of these paper cartridges for you this afternoon. The ball has been greased and the right amount of powder is in there. So all you’ll have to worry about is putting it in the chamber facing the right way.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“I thought you might.” He extended the gun toward her. “Here, I want you to hold it.”

“But don’t we need to get it ready?”

“Yes, but I want you to do that.”

“All right.” She flushed, set the gun in her lap and then reached into her purse.

“Is that so important right now?” He didn’t mean to be impolite, but they were about to shoot a gun, couldn’t whatever was in her purse—a mint or a nail file or a comb or whatever—wait?

“I’d say it’s important if we don’t wish to cause any harm,” she murmured as she brought her hand from inside her purse, a piece of brown paper between her fingers.

“What are you doing with that?” he choked out when she unfurled her fingers to reveal that blasted sheath that Gray had somehow managed to leave in his room following their trip to Dark Moon.

“Covering your gun so nobody gets hurt.”

He stared at her, flabbergasted. “What?”

She unfolded the paper, exposing the loosely tied sheath to the world. Before she could do anything further with it, such as slip it on the end of his pistol, he took it from her.

She looked up at him, startled. “I thought you wanted me to get the gun ready.”

“I meant I wanted you to load the bullet, not—” he lifted the hand that now held the sheath, then quickly stuffed the thing into his pocket that didn’t contain any gunpowder. What a painful disaster that would be. He inwardly shuddered.

“But I thought it had to go on the end so no harm would be done.”

An uneasy feeling came over him as the events of the last minute started to sink in. “Why are you carrying this around?”

She blushed. “I was putting my underthings into the dresser this morning while you were out, and I opened a drawer that you had already claimed as yours. It looked a little out of sorts, so I thought to straighten it for you. I—I didn’t mean to go through your personal things, but I found it and I didn’t know what it was for.”

“So you decided it must be for my gun?”

“That’s what Mrs. Lewis told me when I asked the other wives.”

His jaw dropped. “You asked them what it was for?”

“Y-yes, and Mrs. Lewis said you put it over your gun, so when you practice, it doesn’t cause any harm.”

Every drop of blood shot straight to his head. He didn’t know how, or if, he’d be able to face Wes and the general and most definitely Colonel Lewis again. “She didn’t mean that literally,” he forced himself to say.

Ella’s brow furrowed and the temperature must have heated to one thousand degrees. “Then what did she mean?” Her innocence made him want to groan.

“She was talking about something else. Can we leave it at that for now?”

“No.” She shook her head, a sad expression in her eyes. “I want to know why they were all laughing at me.”

His heart nearly cracked. “I’m sorry they laughed at you, and I will explain it, but this might not be the best time.”

She swallowed visibly, finding something of the utmost interest on his left shoulder. “I understand.”

This time he did groan. “Ella, do you remember when you called my name while I was in the bath?”

She nodded.

“Did you happen to look at anything other than my not-so-hairy chest?”

“Let’s shoot the gun,” she said, picking up his pistol, a blush on her cheeks.

“No. You wanted to know and now you shall have your answer.” He took a deep breath. Weren’t mothers supposed to explain this to their daughters? He shook his head and said a silent prayer he wouldn’t explain it in a way that would make her want to avoid his bed forever. “Men and women are made differently. I’m taller than you, and though you might not believe it based on my chest, men grow hair in some places ladies do not. Men’s bodies are supposed to be firmer than their counterparts. For example, my chest is flat, and yours—” he coughed— “isn’t. While we all have arms and legs, men have a part that you ladies do not. That’s what she was talking about.”

Ella still looked confused and he wanted to curse himself for not having a better explanation for her.

“See, it’s like this,” he tried again. “In order for us to have children, our bodies have to share certain...things. For this to happen, part of me has to...uh...” He raked a hand through his hair, then quit talking and bent forward, pressing his lips to hers. Their kiss was hard and fast, over way too soon for his liking, so he relaxed his lips a bit and leaned in for another. This time, he cupped her face with one hand, stroking her soft cheek with his fingers while his lips pressed hers.

He parted his lips a fraction, just enough to draw her lower lip between his, which she allowed him to do without protest. He ran his tongue along the plump length of her lip, then slipped insider her mouth to taste her better.

She opened her mouth a little more, allowing him further entry. She tasted sweet, just like the apple pastries she’d made them yesterday. Her tongue brushed his and his heart raced. He liked kissing her like this and never wanted to stop. But he had to, before he pushed too far.

He pulled back, his breathing heavy.

So was hers, serving only to make him more excited.

Wordlessly, he reached for her hand and pressed it against the length of his erection, which was threatening to burst the seams of his trousers. “This is what it covers.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “It’s dangerous for women out here to become pregnant. They have to leave if that happens. To prevent her from conceiving, her husband must wear the sheath so they can still enjoy marital intimacies without the risk of pregnancy.”

“Oh,” she said not moving.

He steadied his breathing, then removed her hand from his groin. “Are you ready to shoot my gun now?” As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back. “My pistol,” he immediately corrected, making her laugh.

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

Ella tried to control her nervous giggles as she gripped his pistol. She’d be glad when she could turn around to face the target and not have to continue to face him.

Unfortunately, his presence didn’t seem any less potent when he was out of her view.

She fumbled with the heavy gun as she tried to get a stronger hold.

“Like this,” he murmured in her ear. He wrapped his strong arms around her and covered her hands with his. Her skin heated under his large, callused hands. “There you go. Now, in a minute, you’ll load the gun and set the cock.” He dug into his pocket and retrieved one of those odd shaped packages he’d shown her earlier with the ball and powder. “I’ll put it in for you this time, but you can do it next time.” He lowered the gun, put the packet into the chamber, and pulled back on the little stem at the back of the gun. “Now, hold it up again.”

She lifted her hands and his came over them again, steadying her.

“You’re all right,” he whispered against her ear. His breath so close, she could feel its warmth against her skin.

A tingle shot through her and she tightened her grip on the gun until she was certain her white-knuckled fingers would go numb soon.

“Relax a bit. That’s it. Now, close your left eye and look through the top of your gun with your right.”

She did as instructed. “I see a small tree way over there.”

“Then bring the gun down a little until you see our target, which isn’t the tree, by the way. Even I don’t think I could hit it from this distance.”

She lowered the end of the gun. “I see it now.”

“Good. Now, whenever you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.”

Nerves, or perhaps the closeness of Jack and the headiness of his scent filling her nostrils, got to her and her hands began to shake.

He tightened his hold over her hand. “I’m right here. The bullet will go forward, I promise. Nothing will happen to you, just fire.”

Ella closed both eyes and pulled the trigger.

Jack chuckled. “That was better than my first shot.”

She spun around to face him. “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not. Didn’t I tell you that when I went to West Point, I’d never touched a gun before?” He reached into his pocket and retrieved another packet, then handed it to her. “My first shot took place the day I arrived. I did hit a target though, just not my own. I hit the one that was forty feet to the left of the one I was supposed to be aiming at. Your shot was only about twenty feet off.”

She laughed and took the cartridge from him, then started putting it into the gun.

His strong hands grasped her shoulders. “Never load the gun while it is pointed at a man on your side.” He spun her around toward the target. “Go ahead. Very good, push it just a little farther in. Now set the cock.”

“Just pull back?”

“Yes.”

She tried to imitate how she’d seen him do it earlier and only use her thumb, but it was too hard for her to do. She pointed it down and shifted it between her hands so she could get a better hold between her thumb and forefinger.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s too hard.”

He stepped right up behind her and leaned his head to look over her shoulder, his broad chest pressing against her back. Her body jerked of its own accord at his touch, causing her to accidentally back up into him more. She went still. Very still. From her shoulders all the way to her derriere, she was pushed up against his body.

“Don’t do that,” he barked, reaching for the gun. “You’ll shoot yourself in the foot if it slips and you misfire.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t pull the cock back. It was too stiff.”

He made a choking sound and took a step back. “That happens sometimes,” he murmured under his breath. Then he lifted the gun and with a quick flick of his thumb, he set the cock and released it. “Try again.”

She tried again, but it was still too hard for her to move it. “I can’t do that with my thumb.”

“All right. Hold the gun with your right hand, as you’re doing already. Now lift your left and use the inside of your palm to set the hammer.”

She frowned. “The hammer?”

“Yes, the hammer. I think we should call it the hammer.”

She turned around to see his face, but he ducked. Perhaps she didn’t really want to know what that was about. “All right, I’ll try the method you’ve suggested.” It was much easier to move the thing that way, but when she did, she nearly lost her balance.

Jack’s hands went to her waist to stay her. “Here, why don’t you sit on the stool?”

As much as she wanted to sit and rest her leg, there wasn’t a chance she’d take him up on his offer and miss the opportunity to have him so close. “That’s all right. I’ll stand. I’m just trying to get used to this.”

“It’s all right. Take your time.”

She put her hands on the grip and moved into position to look down the barrel at where her bullet would go. Then ever so slowly, she pulled the trigger. “Where did it go?”

“Just a little above the edge of the target. That’s still very good.”

She nodded, not feeling very accomplished.

“Ella, it’s all right that you’re not perfect at this. I don’t expect you to be.”

Ella fired off a few more shots, not once hitting anywhere near the target. Jack didn’t seem to mind though. He just praised her loading, then bent down and helped her aim. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t come close to her target. The nearness of him was distracting. His spicy scent, his bristly whiskers that grazed her cheek or neck whenever he came close, the warmth of his body. Just him. It was distracting. He was distracting. But in a good way. A very good way.

She peeked up at him. He had eyes the color of obsidian and an angular jaw. Of course she already knew he was handsome. She’d never doubted his physical appearance. Only his actions. A small amount of nausea filled her stomach. She’d been so wrong in her judgment of his sincerity and had acted like a total shrew. How could he possibly want her? Did he truly want her or did he feel trapped?

She pulled her eyes away and focused on the target. She had to woo him somehow. But how? He’d seemed quite affected by their kiss. Of course, she had been, too. Her face flushed. She’d been kissed by a few of her suitors, but their kisses had never been like his. His was intense and passionate, yet gentle and intoxicating. Twice, one of her suitors, Joseph Bickford, had tried to touch her breast. She’d immediately become uncomfortable with his feather-light, almost to the point of tickling, touch and had pushed his hand away. Matthew Turner had also tried. But he’d been just the opposite: too aggressive. She still remembered the bruising pain his vice-like grip had caused, startling her almost as much by the pain as by his boldness in touching her there. Of course, she’d slapped his hand away immediately, more so to spare her tender flesh any more pain than to spare her reputation, and had made a mental note that if she married him, she’d have to tell him to be gentler. But that was never a problem. He hadn’t proposed. And what a blessing that was. She couldn’t stop the smile that came across her lips. Jack was a far better catch. One that she wouldn’t have had if she’d accepted any of those others’ suits.

Without having to think about it, she knew that Jack’s touch would be a perfect combination of gentle and firm. He was a perfect combination of gentle and firm. She instinctively scooted a little closer to him. Did he think about touching her breasts? She’d heard whispers that men liked to touch them, and the actions of Joseph Bickford and Matthew Turner seemed to confirm that. But what of Jack? He’d seemed so cold and indifferent last night when he’d admitted to having seen hers. But right before that he’d so boldly expressed interest... Did he have any interest in a physical relationship with her? He’d seemed so casual and accepting of her edict that she’d marry him but wouldn’t perform marital intimacies. Did that mean he didn’t desire them? Or just with her?

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow in confusion. His actions were constant contradictions of each other. Could she persuade him to be interested? Her bosom wasn’t as full as her sister’s, but neither was it comprised of rolled up stockings. Was it possible to win Jack’s heart with her womanly wiles? Seduce him, so to speak. Shame washed over her. Proper young ladies were not supposed to think about doing such—nor feel giddy with excitement at the prospect. But neither did proper young ladies become mail order brides without telling their families. She swallowed hard. She needed to write to her sister and father and let them know where she was and how happy she was. How happy she was with Jack. But just how happy was her husband with her?

She peeked up at his face again. He wore a strange expression. Did he think of her as an undesirable shrew? Or worse, was he completely indifferent about her?

“Is something wrong, Jack?”

“I’m just waiting for you to fire,” he said. “It seems you’ve been aiming for ten minutes. Were we in a war, I’m afraid we’d be dead already.”

Ella squeezed the trigger and Jack’s rich chuckle filled her ear.

“How about you shoot one more, and whether you hit the target or not, we’ll call it a night?”

“All right.” She reached for the bullet cartridge in his hand, then loaded the gun, took her position, and waited for him to correct her stance.

“Straighten this arm,” he murmured. “Bring this elbow back.” His strong hands guided her arms, making her knees go weak. “I think you’re pointing too high. Lower your arms.” He lowered her arms, and what seemed completely unintentional, he ran his fingers over her breast.

She froze as sparks shot through her and her nipple hardened.

Acting completely unaware of what he’d just done, Jack removed his hands from her arms and encouraged her to shoot.

There was no way she could shoot now! Not with a pounding heart, a blushing face, swollen breasts and shaking hands. Mustering up as much strength as she could, she pulled the trigger without looking, then lowered her gun. “I’m sorry I’m so bad. I didn’t intend to be the worst student you’ve ever had.”

“You’re not.” He grinned and took the gun from her. “I have a man under my command right now who is a worse shot than you, and if you don’t believe me, then you can ask Gray.”

She smiled at his horrible attempt to make her feel better. “Does that mean you haven’t given up hope for me and plan to bring me shooting again?” She was hopeful he’d say yes. Shooting practice offered her all sorts of opportunities to “accidentally” brush up against him and get his attention.

“Of course I plan to take you out again.” He slipped his gun into his gun belt. “Things worth having are often the things you have to work the hardest for.”

Something in his statement, the words, the tone, his look, she wasn’t sure exactly what, made her breath catch. Did that mean he hadn’t given up on her and she had a chance with him?

~Chapter Twenty-Nine~

Jack cringed when he checked his watch. He hadn’t meant for shooting practice to take so long. Not that it had felt too terribly long at the time as he’d stood behind Ella with her soft body against his. She fit nicely into his arms. Of course, he already knew that, but he enjoyed having her there again nonetheless. Unfortunately, they’d been gone so long they’d missed dinner downstairs, which meant he’d have to cook something for them. He knew Ella would cook if he asked it of her, but she still needed to rest. She might not realize it now, but all of that standing out in the field probably wasn’t the best thing for her.

“How hungry are you?” he asked tentatively as he ushered her inside their room. He hoped she’d had a big lunch. If she said she was starving, they’d be up until midnight waiting for dinner to cook over the fire.

“Not very, I suppose. I could settle for something light like bread and apples. The question is—” she turned to face him, her lips twitching and a sparkle in her eyes— “how hungry are you?”

He twisted his lips into an overdone frown and rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “I could settle for some bread and apples, I suppose. Oh, and some jerky.”

“You need more than that. What do you want?”

You. I want you. He couldn’t say that though, no matter how true it was. He needed to gain her trust first. “I ate a lot at lunch so I don’t need a large dinner tonight.”

She eyed him askance. “All right, but if I wake up and you’re gnawing on your own arm from starvation, don’t expect me to make a midnight journey to Dark Moon to get you something for the infection.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

“You’d rather die than want me to go see Dark Moon for an ointment to save you if you got an infection?” Her eyes searched his face and there was something odd about her voice.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. Dark Moon doesn’t believe in wearing clothes and I’d be condemned to die alone of infection the second you lay your beautiful eyes on his patch of chest hair. It isn’t much, but it’s more than the fifteen or so strands that I have.”

She swatted at his arm, blushing.

He reached for her, encircling her wrist with his fingers. “If you’ll get out the food, I’ll go fetch us some water for a bath.”

Something akin to excitement came over her face at his words.

Trying not to think of her expression and the meaning behind it too much, he released her wrist and grabbed the pails and went to the well to refill them.

Sighing, he opened the door to reenter their room with the pail of water. As soon as he opened the door, he froze. “Ella, I just asked you to get it all out. I’d have made our plates.”

“I know what you asked. I just thought I’d do the rest.”

He tried not to frown as he set the water down by the fireplace. “Thank you. Now, why don’t you sit down and wait. I’ll light the fire, then come join you.” He made quick work of lighting the fire, after which he scooted the buckets as close as he could so the water would heat. She hadn’t had an actual bath since she’d arrived, and he knew she had to be desperate for one. He stood and brushed the dirt and little pieces of wood off his hands, then went to the table.

“I didn’t know how much jerky you wanted, so I got it all out.”

“Thank you,” he said again. He tore a chunk off, then handed her back the rest, winking. “You’d better hide that or I’ll eat it all.”

“Pa always said army men loved jerky.”

Jack bit off a piece of bread. “Did he say anything else about us?”

“Just that they loved jerky, women, and alcohol—but not always in that order.”

Jack nearly choked on his bread at her casual, almost nonchalant tone. “I see, and does that not bother you?”

“Well...” She tore her piece of bread in half, then again. “I wouldn’t say that it doesn’t bother me, but it didn’t stop me from marrying a military man.”

Jack noticed her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Nor did you know before you arrived that I was.”

“That’s fair enough,” she agreed with a deep exhale. “I guess it bothers me more than I let on or I’d have been more encouraging of James McElroy’s interest in courting me.”

“Alcohol doesn’t interest me,” he offered slowly. “When my father wasn’t in the mine, he consumed alcohol like air. That was probably part of why he was so unhealthy, though the doctor seemed to dismiss the idea and wanted to blame the mine instead.” He closed his eyes for an extended blink. “When he first became sick, I stopped letting him have his drinks and he’d yell for them all day and night until he wore himself out screaming and shaking and kicking and flailing. But I ignored him, hoping once he realized he didn’t need to drink, he’d get better. It took a while for his fits to stop, but his health never improved.” He mindlessly spun his apple on the table. “When he drank, he wasn’t mean exactly, but he certainly wasn’t loving either. He ignored me most of the time, but I don’t know if that’s because he didn’t care I was there or just didn’t know.” He forced a shrug. “Either way, I never developed a taste for the stuff.”

Ella’s hand found his, her soft skin such a welcome caress against his rough hand. “I’m sorry. My father had his whisky on occasion, mainly when one of his men, or one of my sisters, were giving him fits, but he never had more than one glass and only once in a while.”

Jack nodded slowly. Did she expect him to tell her of his experience with women, too? She’d mentioned it was one of the things men were addicted to. “Ella, jerky is my only vice.” He hoped she understood his meaning, for he’d hate to embarrass himself by admitting to her that his experience in romantic matters rivaled hers. He might know a little more, but he hadn’t done much more than she had.

“You are interested in the other, are you not?”

Jack stared at her in confusion. What kind of question was that? He was a man; of course he was interested in women. “Yes.” He held her gaze. “Very.”

She looked past his right shoulder. “I believe the water is ready.”

That’s not the only thing. He stood with a grunt, then swiped a rag from the shelf and went to the pails. He wrapped the rag around the handle, then poured the first pail into the tub. “How hot do you like your water?”

“Well, I’m not a lobster so I’d prefer not to boil, but I like it fairly warm.”

He nodded and set the empty pail down. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to get in before I put the second bucket in. With a tub this big, and only so much water, it loses its heat quickly.” He placed the rag down on the end of the bed and looked at her. “Would you prefer that I leave or—”

“Of course not.” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and offered him a smile. “Who would help me remove my dress?”

Jack hardly heard the hint of unease in her voice over the blood that thundered in his ears, and he completely ignored the logic that she didn’t need help removing her dress if she’d been able to put it on this morning without his assistance. He was over to her chair in less than a heartbeat.

“Thank you,” she murmured, placing her unsteady hand into his as he helped her stand.

He squeezed her hand, a silent promise that he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation. He’d have to be sure to remind himself of that in a few minutes.

Ella’s fingers worked to undo the buttons that went down the front of her dress. Good choice, he thought to himself. Out here women couldn’t afford the time or help to wear fancy dresses every day as they could in the city. They needed clothing that was practical which they could get into and out of with little assistance. That meant few ties and buttons and all in the front. Men were better suited for undressing ladies, not dressing them, and few families in the west could afford to hire someone to attend the missus. At least she’d taken that into account when she’d packed.

He felt a bit foolish watching her as she removed her gown, but that soon faded when she dropped the caps of her sleeves from her shoulders and stood before him in her undergarments. They both knew he’d seen her in as much—and less—before, but it was different. This time, she was awake and knew he was looking.

A shiver passed over her and she looked ill at ease. He placed what he hoped would be a comforting hand against the middle of her back, then guided her to sit on the bed. He sank to his knees in front of her and reminded himself this was just as foreign for her as it was for him. He’d scare her if he rushed, and he’d embarrass himself if he wasn’t careful. Schooling his features to appear calmer than he felt, he reached under the hem of her chemise for the top of her stocking.

Ella moved her leg an inch forward, allowing him to roll it down more easily. He’d noticed when she’d first dropped her gown that she hadn’t worn her pantalets today. Now that he was positioned between her parted legs, he almost wished she had. Almost. He tore his eyes away from where they’d strayed and rolled down her second stocking, taking care to go slow over where she’d been bitten.

“How does your leg feel?” He gently guided his hand along her calf.

“A little tender.”

“Sorry.” He removed his hand and stood. “I’ll pour that water in now.” Two pails weren’t enough to fill the tub, not by half, but it would offer enough water for a comfortable bath. He offered Ella his hand and interlaced their fingers for the three steps it took them to reach the tub. “Why don’t you put your left leg in?”

She gave him a queer look.

“That way, you don’t take the scab off your other.”

Her eyes widened as if she’d forgotten, and then she bit her lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t bathe yet.”

“Nonsense. You can prop your ankle up on the edge of the tub so your calf will stay dry.” He urged her in, then released her hand and moved to stand behind her. Would she reach for her chemise, or should he? Or did she wish to keep it on? Surely not, she hadn’t bathed since she’d been here—the times he’d washed her with a wet cloth certainly didn’t count—and who knew when she’d last bathed on her way here. She’d relax better and get cleaner without it. He lowered his lashes and reached hesitant hands toward the sides of the fabric that hung mid-thigh then lifted it.

She showed no sign of protest, exciting him in ways he didn’t expect. Perhaps she was ready? He lifted it up past her breasts and caught a glimpse of the side of one. He knew he should look away, but he just couldn’t. Not yet.

“Is it caught on my hair?”

Her question pulled him from his lusty thoughts and his eyes shot to where the collar of her chemise was hooked under her bun. “Just a little.” He grimaced at his ragged voice, then moved his thumb to free her chemise from her hair. “It might be best to wait to wash your hair until you can get your leg wet, that way you don’t bump it.”

She sighed. “It’s probably best that way. I’ll leave it up then. Allison helped me comb it the other day and put it up like this. If I take it down, I might get it tangled.”

“It’s beautiful.” He’d never given a thought about hair before, but as he looked at hers and said those words, he realized he’d meant them. Her hair truly was beautiful. He removed her chemise and tossed it on the bed behind him. The skin on her back was flawless. Smooth and without blemish. He trailed a single fingertip down her spine, taking a small measure of pride when she shivered in response. “Are you ready?”

Ella turned slightly, offering him an unobstructed profile view. “It feels strange with only one foot in the water.”

Jack repositioned himself and put one hand on each of her sides, then eased her into the water. He tightened his grip when she grew unsteady and almost lost her balance as her bottom neared the water. “Lean to the left a little more. There you go. Can you bring your right foot up and put your ankle on the edge? I won’t drop you, I promise.”

Her movements were unsteady as she moved her foot, whether due to fear of losing her balance or nerves about her current state, he’d never know. When her foot was secure, he scooted her back slightly, then removed his hands so she could get comfortable.

“Is this all right?”

“Yes. Do you have any soap?”

“Of course.” He retrieved the soap and a rag from the shelf and handed them to her.

“Thank you. W-would you like to sit?”

Of course. Is inside the tub an option? It wouldn’t end well if he rushed her, he reminded himself, taking a seat on the floor with his back touching the side of the tub. It wasn’t where he wanted to sit, but it was the best choice. The safest choice.

Only a moment later, he was reminded of, and glad he’d made, this choice when the unmistakable sound of old wooden bedposts scraping the floor, muffled only by a thin wall, filled the air.

“What is that?”

Jack grimaced. “Wes and Allison are having their own target practice session,” he said as evenly as he could despite the way he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Silence was Ella’s only response. Then just as quickly, the air filled with what had to be the most pleasurable sound Jack had ever heard: Ella’s giggles. “I hope she remembered to make him wear his covering. I rather like having her around.”

Jack tipped his head back far enough to see her face. “I rather like having you around, too.”

~Chapter Thirty~

Ella’s breath caught in her throat. Did he really enjoy having her around? Surely, he wouldn’t just say that without meaning it. “I like being here,” she said in the barest whisper, unsure if he could hear her or not.

He lifted his head and straightened. “How are you getting along with the other wives?”

She frowned. “Fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’d mentioned earlier they were laughing at you. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel out of place.”

She released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “No. They’ve been very nice to me. I like them a lot. They were all laughing because I’d...well, you know. Thinking on it now, they were probably just as uncomfortable as I was.”

Jack bent forward and unlaced his boots. “You know that you could have just asked me.”

“Well, I didn’t know it was such a personal thing. If I had known, then there wouldn’t have been a need to ask.”

“Point taken.” He kicked his boots off, then used his right foot to push them out of his way. “Is there anything else you’re curious about?”

“I don’t think so,” she lied. She was curious about everything, but now didn’t seem the time to tell him that. Just as he’d been hot then cold out shooting the gun—one minute giving her the idea that he’d like to pursue the intimate side of their marriage, then a second later seeming indifferent— he’d been the same way in their room. One statement seemed to contradict another, and one action gave her hope as the next took it away. She couldn’t possibly put her heart on display for him that way. What if she’d misunderstood and he rejected her? She slid her fingers into the back of his thick, black hair. “Would you like to take your turn now?”

“Only if you’re finished. I don’t want to rush you.”

“I’m as finished as I can be.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve cleaned everything but my leg.”

He shifted to face her. “I can help you with that.”

Her voice failed her and she nodded.

“Soap?”

Ella handed it to him, too preoccupied wondering about the hoarseness of his voice to offer him the cloth, too.

Jack walked on his knees to the end of the tub and set the soap down beside him. He reached one hand into the water, then using his hand as a scoop, poured water on her leg to wet it. He picked the soap back up and gave it a few spins before putting it back and bringing both of his hands to her leg.

His touch was nearly her undoing. Her skin heated and quivered under his hands. She fought not to let her leg relax too much and fall to the side, but when he reached her knee and touched her thigh, she could fight it no longer. Her entire body was now exposed to him, and as shameful as some might find it, she didn’t have the slightest urge to cover herself.

Jack’s hands made their way back down her leg and to her ankle. He slid his right hand under her calf and lifted her foot before washing it better than her foot had likely ever been washed before. He rinsed his hands, then her leg.  “My turn.” He stood abruptly, his brown eyes wide. “I mean to bathe. Not for you to wash me.”

She allowed herself a smile and held her hand up to him. She’d drown as a boneless heap if he didn’t help her.

Wordlessly, he helped her out of the tub, then wrapped her in a towel.

She bit her lip. She was dressed in only a towel and she’d wanted to seduce him, hadn’t she? Now would be a good time to continue. Although, he hadn’t been a very good seductee. She’d just been completely naked and exposed, and he’d stayed right on his task. Sighing, she padded over to the drawer where she kept her chemises. She dropped the towel and pulled one on, chancing a quick glance at Jack.

He was already in the tub and the only parts of him that were visible were the back of his head and his shoulders. “You can snuff the candles if you’d like to lie down.”

“Don’t you need them to see?” she asked, climbing into bed.

The water splashed. “I’ll only be a minute or so longer and there’s still enough light outside for me to see to get out and dress.”

Yes, but there wasn’t enough light out for her to see him. At least not more than a general outline of his form.

She snuffed the candle by their bed and laid her head against the pillow. She deserved this, she supposed. He had every right to be disinterested in her. She’d done nothing those first few days to give him a reason to want to pursue her. That’s all right, she told herself. She had no desire to leave him now, not unless he didn’t want her here... No. That was impossible. If he didn’t want her any longer, surely he’d have said so by now. Sent her home or even hinted that she should return at the very least.

The mattress dipped and Jack crawled in beside her, his warmth spreading over her like a second blanket.

“Did you have a good afternoon?” he asked quietly.

“With you? Yes.”

“Good.” He reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. “Tomorrow, the majority of the men at the fort will be off, and I hate to inform you of this, but it means you’ll have to spend the majority of the day with me.”

Ella’s lips stretched into a wide smile as all sorts of seductive ideas filled her head before she drifted off to sleep.

***

“What shall we do today?” Ella asked, looking down at him from where she’d propped her cheek against her palm, with her elbow sticking into the pillow. “Shoot your gun again?”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

She knew she’d been bad. She was a woman with small hands and weak muscles. “Surely, I wasn’t so bad. Once you showed me the trick with the cock—”

“Hammer,” he interrupted. He dropped his hands and rolled to face her, the sheets shifting and pooling above his waist, offering Ella a full view of the broad expanse of his muscled chest and abdomen. “Did you ever watch the men play rounders when you were younger?”

Memories of men with bats and a ball came to mind. “Yes. Is there supposed to be a game?”

“This afternoon.” He reached forward and adjusted the strap on her chemise. “Until then, I’m all yours. Provided you want me.”

She lifted a finger and ran it down the blade of his nose. “Of course I want you.”

He grasped her wrist and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Good.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her hand, then set their hands down. “Do you feel up to riding a horse?”

“I’m not sure I should. My leg still hurts a little when I put pressure on it.”

“What if we share a mount? You can sit and relax and I’ll drive him.”

The thought of sharing a horse with him, their bodies so close, made her skin prickle with anticipation. “I think that sounds perfect.”

His face went blank and he nodded once. Then in one swift motion, he rolled out of bed. A temporary feeling of disappointment came over Ella when she discovered that he’d put his trousers back on to sleep in. She threw off the thought along with the sheets and got out of bed.

Jack had found a home for some of her gowns while she’d been sick. Unfortunately for her, she’d brought more dresses than she’d be able to store. Perhaps with a few alterations, she could give some of them to Allison. She opened the crude wardrobe, which must have been moved up while she was unconscious, and withdrew a simple pale blue dress. She’d always felt nervous wearing it back in Savannah because when she’d sewn it, she’d been a little younger. By the time she’d finished it, her breasts had gotten a bit fuller, leading the fabric of her dress to hug up against them in a way that drew everyone’s attention. And that was why this dress would be perfect for today. Jack would be drawn to her and see her as a woman, not just as a body in need of tender care as he saw her now.

She dressed and turned in time to see him look up from lacing his boots. His fingers stilled. “That’s a very—” he practically gulped— “beautiful dress.”

She gave him her best smile and clasped her hands in front of her, waiting for him to finish.

“Are you ready?”

“No breakfast?”

Jack picked up a small leather bag. “I thought we’d take a picnic.”

“More bread and apples?” she teased.

“And jerky.” Jack offered her his arm and led her from their room and across the courtyard of the barracks to the stable. “Did your father ever allow you to ride horses?”

“Sometimes. But not since my sister Michaela was thrown from one.”

Jack handed Ella the bag that held their lunch and set the bridle for their horse. “Do you miss her?”

Ella’s heart slammed in her chest. “Of course I miss her.” She missed her father, too, but didn’t wish to give him any ideas of sending her home. She took a step back and allowed Jack to lead his horse from the stables. He didn’t have any siblings. At least he hadn’t mentioned any, and she assumed if they existed, he’d have mentioned them when he spoke of his parents. For as lonely as she’d felt at times these past few days without Michaela, she wondered how lonely Jack felt at times. He had no one. No one to write letters to or visit. No one to think of fondly. She had the strangest urge to wrap him in a hug. “Do you think you’ll miss Wes and Gray when your time here is done?”

He stopped the horse and nodded, a gleam of sadness in his eyes. “I do. They’re the closest thing I have to brothers. Of course, there are others I work with, such as McCorkle and some of my men who I see frequently and know, but the friendship I have with Wes and Gray is different. I’m very grateful to have friends like them.” He smiled. “Now are you ready to ride or do you wish to interrogate me further about my feelings?”

She laughed and allowed him to help her onto the horse, then sat still while he mounted behind her.

Jack reached around her and took hold of the reins. “Where to, my dear?”

“I don’t know. Where is there besides tall grass?”

“The river.”

“Then, let’s go.”

Jack snapped the reins and their mount took off running. Ella grinned as they rode against the wind. The pins in her hair began to slip, but she didn’t mind. Let them all fall out and her hair blow wild for all she cared. Jack’s arms tightened around her a fraction, bringing his hands just below her breasts. His body pressed flush against her back with his face just above her shoulder.

She could stay like this forever, she thought.

But it was not meant to be. A moment or two later, the river came into view and Jack slowed his horse.

Jack helped her down and she looked around in awe of the open prairie all around her. “We are safe here, aren’t we?”

Jack chuckled and removed a dark blue blanket from his pack. “Yes. This belongs to our government.”

Ella helped him unfold it. “Where are we?”

“Indian Territory.” He grinned. “This is the Verdigris River.”

“I think the S is supposed to be said like a Z,” she said with a giggle.

Jack shrugged. “Verdigrisss, Verdigrezzz. Same place.” He sat next to her and stretched out his long legs, crossing his ankles. “You’re probably right and it’s some fancy, highfalutin name, but we simple army boys use the S.”

She laughed. “I don’t know about fancy or highfalutin. I think it’s Spanish, if I had to guess.” She looked at the greenish-gray color of the river. “And quite fitting, if you ask me.”

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“Poquito.”

“I’m assuming that means some.”

Ella joined him and allowed him to help her sit on a fallen log, which was half submerged into the water. “That’s my assumption, too. That word, a few pleasantries such as please and thank you, and a few colors, such as green, which is verde, and gray, which is gris, is the extent of my Espanol.”

Jack stood and walked to the water’s edge. “So what do you say, Mrs. Walker? Are you opposed to dipping your toes into the Green-Gray River?”

She joined him and looked down toward their feet at the edge of the river bank. “Only if I’m not the only one to do so.”

“Of course not.” He bent his knee and started to unlace his boots. “How could I possibly get a good view of your ankles if I’m not right there beside you with my feet in the water, too?”

Ella kicked off her slippers. “What is it with men and ankles?” she muttered under her breath, rolling off her stockings. She tucked her stockings into her slippers then accepted his help to sit on a partially submerged log.

“It’s not so much the ankle that we’re interested in, but the delicate slope of your calf, which a peek at your ankles often provides.” He winked, taking a seat beside her. He pulled off his untied boots and long black stockings and threw them behind him before lowering his feet toward the water. “Disappointed?”

Ella started, blushing. “Disappointed?”

He wiggled his toes at her. “No toe hair.”

“You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

He shook his head, grinning.

“I was actually surprised—not about the lack of excessive hair. It’s just that my father used to take off his boots and we’d all have nightmares filled with cracked and blackened toenails and mangled toes. I assumed since you’re also in the army...” She shrugged.

“I didn’t fight a war, Ella.” He looked down at where her feet were submerged in the water. “I might not know your father very well, but I do remember being told he’d fought in the War of 1812. Conditions are harsh during wartime. Weapons break, clothes get thin and boots wear out.”

“I hadn’t thought of that before,” she said with a hint of shame.

“Most people don’t. In fact, most people don’t think about a foot unless it’s injured or it does something to them.”

She knit her brows. “Does something to—” Her words were cut off when a light spray of water came over her and a splashing sound filled the air. She looked down to their feet in the water. He dangled his as if he were completely innocent in her getting wet. “You’re a sneaky one.”

He grinned. “I tr—”

She kicked the water, sending a large spray onto him.

Jack’s grin grew, if such a thing was possible, and he kicked both of his feet, sending an even larger spray over her.

She squealed at the coolness of the water and got him back!

Water flew all around them as they both sat kicking and ducking and laughing. She gave him a playful nudge that sent him into the water. Were he anyone else, she would have been horrified at what he might say to her when he emerged, but just as his head came up, so did his cupped hands, sending a wall of water in her direction.

Her body shook with laughter, which evaporated a moment later when Jack’s hands found her ankles, stilling her kicking feet. His face had taken on a serious expression and he moved to stand between her parted legs, bringing the top of his head just under her nose. He released her ankles and cupped her face.

“You’re beautiful when you’re laughing.”

“And I’m not when I don’t?” she teased.

He traced around her lips with the side of his thumb. “I didn’t say that.”  He closed the gap between their bodies and touched his lips to hers.

Ella gripped his shoulders for support.

Jack brushed his lips over hers again, then pulled back and swallowed audibly, a pained expression on his face similar to the one she’d seen this morning. It was gone but a moment later, and so was he. “We should probably eat breakfast now.”

***

“You brought more than bread, apples and jerky,” Ella cried with delight, when she opened the bag he’d brought with them. She withdrew some nuts and dried fruit. “These are my favorites.”

“Good. You’ll be eating them a lot out here.”

She laughed and handed him an apple.

Ten minutes later, Jack had a stomachache from all the food he’d eaten. Two meals comprised of snacks didn’t seem very filling, but he’d over-indulged and now wasn’t feeling so well.

“Here, lie your head in my lap and rest for a while.”

He wasn’t sure that was a good idea when he considered the state of his stomach, but something of his that resided a little lower than his stomach urged him to accept her offer.

“How’s that?” she asked as she ran a comforting hand through his hair.

“Better.” He opened one eye to look up at her face, but was treated instead to a generous view of her breasts hovering over his face. He stifled a groan.

“Is something wrong?” She bent forward just enough for him to see her puckered brow. Not that he looked at her face for long, his eyes were drawn right back to her breasts the same way a needle was to true north.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and his mind spun. He wasn’t sure what to trust anymore—his mind or his heart? He wanted Ella, desired her more than he’d ever dreamed possible. She, too, seemed to desire him. She hadn’t backed away from his kisses. In fact, she’d seemed to encourage him. Pressing her body against his on the horse, allowing him to undress her and wash her in the tub, and now making it impossible for him to think of anything but her and her breasts.

He’d sensed by her letters that she wasn’t without humor and had hoped to see that when she recovered. Consequently, he knew that was genuine, but what of her flirtations? Did she truly desire him the way he desired her? Her reactions to his kisses would suggest such, but she’d made it clear on their wedding day that she wouldn’t engage in intimacies with him. What had changed her mind? He hadn’t done a single thing to win her heart. Except save her life.

Another sort of sick feeling settled in his stomach and his mouth went as dry as a dirt clod. Was her sudden interest in a physical relationship only because he’d saved her? Was this her way of repaying his kindness? Did she feel indebted to him and thought to offer him pleasure to make things right?

He couldn’t possibly ask her that, for what if he was wrong and he falsely accused her of something so cruel? He’d undo everything that had been done.

It’d be best if he kept his eyes shut, where he could safely undress her all he liked...

~Chapter Thirty-One~

Michaela bit her lip. Hard. They’d only arrived in Fort Smith fifteen minutes ago and they were already leaving? Pa had promised they’d stay there for a few days. Of course she was excited to see Ella, but she was also not yet ready for what would unfold upon their arrival.

Across from her, her father gripped a bundle of papers encased in a leather pouch as if they were made of gold. She shook her head at the memory of the entire exchange. They’d walked into the commanding officer’s office, and immediately, everyone in the room rose to attention and saluted her father. Pa had just lowered his hand from returning their salute when General Bridges thrust a packet of papers toward him saying, “These were brought over a few days ago by Captain Montgomery from Fort Gibson.”

Pa hadn’t said hardly a word since. Not that he needed to. She knew he’d planned to stay in Fort Smith with the sole purpose of dredging up every known fact about the man they knew now as First Lieutenant Jack Walker, recently promoted. She’d never expected that all of it had already been compiled and was waiting; by the way Pa’s face had gone as white as a sheet, she’d wager he hadn’t expected it, either.

A sheen of sweat glistened over his downcast face and he clenched the papers tighter.

“Much tighter, Pa, and you’ll rub the ink right off.”

He nodded. “Indeed.”

“Would you like for me to read those papers for you?” She hated the way he looked so forlorn, as if the realization of losing Ella for good had finally taken hold in his mind.

“No.” He cleared his throat and pulled the papers from the leather pouch then set it on the cushion beside him. He quietly untied the string and began reading. He flipped the page and scowled. Then another. And another.

Michaela watched her father’s face with keen interest, hurting a little on her sister’s behalf each time her father scowled or twisted his lips in distaste.

He heaved a heavy, tormented sigh and tossed the stack of papers down on the seat beside Michaela.

Michaela picked them up. She’d never been so forward as to read his correspondence before, but he had put them right next to her, hadn’t he? She sucked in a breath as she read the eight pages of her brother-in-law’s semestral assessments at West Point. He was not an academic. Nor a favorite among his instructors, it would seem. Her heart sank a little lower reading their notes. It was almost as if they’d wanted him to fail. She got to the final page and had to catch her breath. He’d graduated at the absolute bottom of his class, and it was recommended he be sent to Fort Gibson for no other reason than the fort needed able bodies. He’d either be forced to learn and implement skills necessary to be a good officer there or die. And just under it was the signature of the recommenders commanding officer, granting approval.

Michaela straightened the papers and reached for the leather case they’d come out of. She opened it and found a loose note in the bottom. She pulled it out and debated reading it herself first. “Pa, you missed something.”

He threw his head back against the side of the carriage and groaned. “I don’t even want to know.”

“I think you do,” she murmured as she began to read.

Dear Sir,

Though it has been many years since I was under your command at Camp Coldwater, I hope you will trust my judgement.

I must confess that I did not recognize little Elinor when she first arrived, but then I expect that I have aged and become unrecognizable to her as well. She’s grown into a beautiful young lady over these past fifteen years. I want you to know, sir, that she is well taken care of. But why wouldn’t she be? She did marry one of my finest men, after all. If you’re reading this after you’ve read the reports, as I am assuming you are, then you might question just what kind of men I’m commanding here. Brave men, sir. Men with heart and valor. Men who rise with the sun after only a few hours of sleep. Men who toil in the hot sun without the luxury of shade or cool water and spend winter without gloves and with only  half-sized rations. Men who risk their lives every day just by being here. And men who long for a wife to love and protect—even if that means defying the general’s orders and sneaking into an Indian camp to get medicinal help, and convincing his commanding officer to stand guard in the watchtower while begrudgingly allowing another officer to go along.

First Lieutenant Jack Walker is all of the above and one of the only men out here I’d trust with my life and would without question allow to marry my daughter, for she’d be very fortunate to have him. When he first arrived, I read over his records, the way you taught me to, and I was prepared for the worst. But when I saw him in action, I had a hard time reconciling the man in front of me with the one whose school records I held in my hand.

Please regard my recommendation however you wish, for I speak only of deeds and character, not matters of the heart. But just in case you were wondering, they are as evenly matched as you and Mrs. Davis were.

Regards,

Col. George Lewis

For the second time in the last fifteen seconds, Michaela’s heart stopped. Uncle George. Her memories of him were vague as she was only nine and he a lieutenant under her father’s command. She folded the paper and put it into her father’s hands for him to read when he was ready.

~Chapter Thirty-Two~

Ella ran her fingers through Jack’s silky hair. So soft and thick, she could touch it forever. She traced the edge of his jaw with the tip of her index finger. His mouth hung open a fraction, revealing his row of slightly crooked but well-maintained teeth, and soft snores filled the air. She knew he had to be tired from the lack of sleep he’d had while she was sick.

What a fortunate woman she was to marry a man like him. So strong and brave yet sweet and considerate.

He made a sound akin to a groan in his sleep. Ella smiled at the man she fancied so much and put her hand on his shoulder, then moved it to his chest. He half groaned, half grunted again and his body jerked.

She undid a few of his buttons and slid her hand into his shirt. The skin on his chest felt warm and smooth. She lowered her lashes and hid her smile when her fingers brushed the few stray strands of short hair he had in the center of his chest, then moved her hand across to touch his thick muscles. She took her hand from inside his shirt, undid the remaining buttons and pulled his shirttails from his trousers, then ran her fingers through the coarse hair above his waist that bisected his flat stomach. Under her fingers, his muscles leapt, but he made no sound.

She caught Jack’s eye then, but he didn’t say anything, just watched her with an intense gleam in his eyes and a clenched jaw. She inched her fingers back down to his waistband, and if it was possible, his face grew harder and his stare intensified. Would he stop her? Did she want him to? She’d been curious about that part of him since he’d placed her hand there yesterday. When she’d first seen him naked a few nights ago after she’d woken up from her fever, she hadn’t paid his body much mind. But now she was certainly interested.

Ella skimmed her hand lower and lower until the unmistakable firmness of his arousal inside his trousers filled her hand. She gave him a light squeeze and Jack groaned. She did it again, eliciting the same response. His eyes now were only half open, a sign she assumed was that of pleasure. Emboldened by the effect she was having on him, she released his length and moved to unfasten his trousers.

“Don’t,” he rasped, stopping her hand.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Yes.” He rolled off her lap and took to his feet. “But it’s not right.”

She blanched. Not right? She’d never touched a man there before. How was she supposed to know she wasn’t doing it right? Mortified, she idly picked off the loose blades of grass that were on the picnic blanket.

“It’s probably time for the rounders game, anyway.”

Of course. It would be a crime against the game and all those who’d gathered to play it if they were to miss it because they were otherwise occupied.

The ride back to the barracks was quiet and uneventful.

Ella was clearly awful at seduction and had tried everything she’d thought might work. It might be time to forget her pride and seek advice from Allison.

Once they reached the fort, Jack took care of rubbing down the horse and putting him away. Then they walked to the field where the men had gathered to play.

“It looks like they’ve already started.” Ella scanned the crowd of those seated for Allison and frowned. “Does Allison not watch?”

“No. She prefers to play.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Did you want to play?”

She laughed at the hesitation in his tone. “No. It’s a man’s game. I understand that.”

Jack spun her around to face him. “No. It’s not that. I don’t mind sharing my turn with you, but I don’t think its best until your leg is a little better.”

He was right. Her walking had been slow with the frequent need to sit. She’d never be able to run the bases. And if she accidentally got hit in the leg by the ball? She winced at the thought. “Where can I sit to watch?”

Jack led her to a little row of two chairs. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll go see if I can find Allison and have her join you.”

Ella sat and watched his broad shoulders as he walked away. If Allison liked to play, she probably wouldn’t much care to sit with her.

“We weren’t sure you were coming,” Allison said when she walked up a moment later, a little smile playing on her lips.

“We went on a picnic this morning by the river and Jack fell asleep.”

Allison gave a little giggle. “That happens sometimes.”

Ella was sure she didn’t know what Allison meant and even more certain they weren’t talking about the same thing. “No, Allison, he really did fall asleep.”

“I’m not doubting that.” Allison clapped and cheered as Wes hit the ball, sending it out beyond the outer reaches of the field where the men played. “My experience is limited only to Wes, but sometimes he’ll fall asleep right after.”

“Right after what? Eating?”

Allison laughed but kept her attention to the game. “That, too, but only when I’ve made an extremely large meal and he eats himself sick.”

“That’s what Jack did.”

Allison turned in her chair, her soft eyes, searching Ella’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Not wrong. Just confusing, I suppose.”

“Does this have anything to do with the gun cover you had in your purse yesterday?”

Ella bit her lip as heat crept up her face. “It might.”

“You do know that Mrs. Lewis was talking in riddles. That thing does not go over the pistol he carries in his gun belt.”

“I know. He told me.”

Allison’s head turned to the side just a little. “Did he not explain everything, then?”

“I think he did,” Ella said. She paused to watch Jack hit the ball. It didn’t go as far as Wes’, but he was still able to get two bases. “He said he’d use it so I don’t conceive.”

“Did he tell you why it’s best that you do not conceive so soon?”

Ella dismissed her question with a wave of her hand. “Yes, and I’m not concerned about that.”

“I don’t mean to offend or insult you, but is there something else wrong?”

“Something else?”

Allison waited a minute to answer while the men switched sides. “Do you not enjoy his attentions?”

“I do.” Ella folded her hands in her lap. “But he doesn’t seem to like to give them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fairly certain.” Ella grimaced. “He’s only kissed me three times, once yesterday and twice today.”

“At least the number is increasing,” Allison quipped with a grin.

Ella shook her head. “Yesterday’s was a better kiss.”

“Better?”

“Today, he just brushed his lips over mine two times. Yesterday, he was more...passionate.”

A strange expression came over Allison’s face. “Was he more passionate after the kiss yesterday?”

“Yes,” Ella said without hesitation. He’d been far more interested in her after their kiss yesterday than today. “But before the kiss, he’d been less passionate yesterday than today.”

Allison picked up her chair and turned it to put her back to the game. “I’m sorry. I think I’m getting distracted which is causing me to not understand you correctly. Can you explain that again?”

“Yesterday, after Jack came to get me at Mrs. Lewis’, he took me out to shoot his gun. His real gun.  Only, I didn’t know at the time that Mrs. Lewis had been talking in riddles, and when I suggested he might need the covering, he tried to explain what it was for but ended up kissing me in a way I didn’t expect.” Her face flamed and she had a hard time holding Allison’s gaze. “When he was done, he...uh...moved my hand to help me solve Mrs. Lewis’ riddle. Then he touched me and stayed within inches of me while I learned to shoot. Today, we were on a picnic, having fun, when he came close to kiss me and just brushed his lips over mine. I thought he might kiss me as he had yesterday, but he just pulled away and insisted it was time to eat. Then, he ate so much he got a stomachache and fell asleep.”

Allison narrowed her eyes and looked beyond Ella’s left shoulder. “Is there anything else?”

“Anything else?”

“Has he tried to touch you intimately or even made naughty suggestions?”

“He’s made a few suggestions, but then he’s quickly changed the subject. And he’s brushed past me and has accidentally touched me places only a husband is allowed, but it’s as if he doesn’t realize he’s done it or it has no effect on him.”

“What do you mean by has no effect on him?”

If Ella thought her face was flaming hot before, it was now being consumed by the fire. “I’ve been responsible for some of the touching,” she admitted. “Please don’t think I’m fast or have loose morals, but I’ve pressed against him when I didn’t think it’d be obvious, and he doesn’t seem to notice.”

“Have you done anything else?”

“Such as?”

“Been obvious?” Allison blew out a breath. “Most men are visual creatures, Ella. They get more excited at seeing. Have you given him anything to feast his eyes upon?”

Ella nodded sadly. “I asked him to help me undress last night when I went to take a bath. He did, but then he faced the other way while I bathed.”

“Perhaps you should invite him to help you.”

“I did that, too. I asked him to help me wash my leg, since I didn’t want to get it wet yet.”

Allison gave her head a little shake as if she’d been distracted by something momentarily and said, “Did he?”

“Yes. But he was very detached. It was as though there was nothing special to him about the moment, and I was just a wounded body that needed to be bathed.” A single, hot tear slipped from her eye and she dashed it away.

“To be fair to him, he did spend a week doing that very thing.”

“I know.”

“Is there anything else you’ve done?”

“One other. Today I touched him...down there.”

“And how did he respond to that?”

“He didn’t say anything, but his pistol transformed into a rifle.” She paused a moment to let Allison take in her meaning. “Then when I went to unfasten his trousers, he pulled my hand away, moved away from me and said I wasn’t doing it right.”

“Wasn’t doing it right?” A flabbergasted expression came over Allison’s face. “I wasn’t aware that there was a wrong way to touch a man there. Unless you’re trying to hurt him.”

“No, I wasn’t. He just said something wasn’t right, then said it was time to go.”

“It sounds to me as if he’s resisting his body’s reaction.”

Ella frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“Perhaps he doesn’t think you’re well enough yet?”

“I don’t think that’s it. I might stumble when I walk sometimes, but I’m not that weak.”

“Then why do you think he resists you?”

“I don’t know. I thought it might be because I told him when I first arrived that I wouldn’t share his bed, but surely he’d know if I’m willing to allow him to kiss and touch me and see me naked that I’d welcome his intimate touch.”

“Not necessarily. It might be that he mistakes your actions as purely innocent.” Her face took on a grim expression. “Or he might think you’re teasing him.”

“Teasing him?”

“I’m not saying you are or even that Jack thinks you are, but it’s possible. There are many possibilities. He might think you’re offering your body to him as a way to make amends about what happened with the colonel or as a misguided thank you gesture for his taking care of you when you were sick. He might have the exact same feelings and desire as you do but is too shy or fearful of being turned away to act on them. There are many things it could be.” She moistened her lips. “I know this might not seem easy, but have you considered just talking to him about it?”

“You mean tell him that I’d share his bed?”

“I think it might sound a little better if you make sure to add the word ‘want’ in there. That you want to share his bed.” She winked. “It might be hard to say, but I assure you that it will be well worth it.” Allison threw her head over her shoulder. “They’re switching sides again. Do you mind if I go see if Wes will let me have his turn? If you’d like, I’ll tell Jack you mentioned something about returning to your room while I’m there.”

“Do you think he’ll mind missing the game?”

“For the game he’ll get to play at the barracks? No.”

Ella giggled. “All right. I’ll be here.”

Nervous excitement came over Ella. Why hadn’t she thought just to tell him in the first place? Pride. Nerves. His perception of her. But Allison was right, none of those things seemed very important anymore. Only telling Jack that she loved him and wanted to share every bit of herself with him.

Ella spotted Allison walking up to the men, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Gray hit the ball. He hit it wrong, and instead of going out toward the men in the field, it came hard to the left. Ella’s eyes were transfixed as it flew through the air and landed next to the only man who’d worn his uniform today.

The man bent down to retrieve the ball as the sun glittered off the metal on his hat and coatee. Ella’s heart pounded in her chest. It was hard to tell because she was at such a distance, but the man’s uniform looked identical to her father’s. She narrowed her eyes but couldn’t see him clearly enough as he stood and threw the ball back toward the men on the field. Panic and unease and confusion shot through her. She twisted around to look behind her. She’d wondered what Allison had been looking at before but hadn’t worried too much about it.

When her eyes fell on that all-too-familiar carriage, dread filled her heart and choked her as a new possible reason for Jack’s distance filled her mind: he truly didn’t think she belonged and meant to send her back to her father.

~Chapter Thirty-Three~

Excitement shot through Jack and he scowled. He didn’t want to feel this exhilaration at the prospect that Ella was ready to return to their room. But the truth was, he’d had a hard time thinking of anything other than hauling her back to their room and finishing what she’d started by the river. The vulgar suggestions from the other men since he’d arrived late hadn’t helped. He swore under his breath and handed Allison his bat so she could go after Gray.

“Who’s he?” McCorkle asked, tapping Jack on the shoulder just as he’d turned around to go to his wife.

Jack craned his neck to see the man who’d just bent to pick up Gray’s wayward ball. “I have no idea.”

“You should,” Colonel Lewis said, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “That’s your father-in-law, General Samuel Davis.”

Jack’s heart fell to his stomach. What was he doing here? Who had sent for him? His eyes shot to the chair where Ella had sat, but she wasn’t there.

He pushed away from the men around him and sprinted for the barracks. Did she think to leave him and return to her father? The air evaporated from his burning lungs. He couldn’t let that happen. His life would never be the same if she left. He had to stop her. Convince her to stay. Convince her that he was worth staying for.

He glimpsed the skirt of Ella’s blue dress near the barracks and ignored the shouts of his name behind him as he pressed forward. “Ella! Ella, stop!”

She clamored up the stairs as he ran down the boardwalk calling her name.

He was closing the gap between them and she knew it. From the stairs, he saw her trip, and his arms ached to pick her up and comfort her. But she didn’t wait for him. She sniffled as she pushed herself up and reached for the door he knew to be locked.

He slowed his steps to catch his breath as he joined her at the door. Neither spoke as he unlocked the door.

She went in first, her breathing just as hard as his and her face red and shiny from exertion and perhaps more blasted tears.

“What is this about?” he demanded, locking the door.

She whirled around to face him, arms crossed. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“Asking me what? Why you sent for your father? I don’t know. Because you don’t like it here and want to go back home?”

Ella’s light eyes blazed with fire. “That’s not true. I like it here.”

“Oh, so then it’s just me you don’t like, is that it?”

“I never said that.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps not in so many words, but you’ve implied it enough times.”

“I know and I’m sorry, but I didn’t send for my father and we both know that.”

“And you believe that I sent for him?”

“No, but you knew he was coming and didn’t stop him.”

He gaped at her and the workings of her mind. “Stop him? How was I supposed to stop him?” He didn’t even know the man was coming! How could he have?

“You would have thought of a way if you truly wanted me to stay.” The hurt and anguish in her voice made his knees weaken.

“I never said I didn’t want you here, and I know I never said anything of the kind to make you feel that way.” He curled his fingers into fists to resist the urge to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“You didn’t have to say it. Your actions prove it.”

“What actions do you speak of?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Would it be when I was spending my days and nights cooling your skin and coaxing you to drink water to stay hydrated, or was it when I snuck off under the cloak of darkness to go see a madman about a cure for your infection?”

“Must you sink so low as to throw that in my face?”

He rocked back on his heels. “Throw what in your face?”

“That I don’t belong here.”

Jack stood frozen. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head sadly and sat down on the edge of the bed. “My father came because he didn’t want me to be a mail order bride.”

“So you think you don’t belong here because your father thinks you don’t belong?” he asked for clarification. Though he was completely confused.

“He thought if I stayed, I’d find the right husband,” she continued, ignoring his question. “You asked once if I ever actually looked for a husband. The truth is, I did. Unfortunately, nobody thought I would make a good wife.” She took a deep breath and wrung her hands. “I had more suitors in the past two years than some girls have in a lifetime and got to witness just as many proposals. Only, none were meant for me. I wanted to believe their interest in me was genuine, but for some reason, not one of them ever felt I belonged with him.”

“You have a husband now,” he said quietly.

A steady torrent of tears streamed down her face. “Yes, but not because he thought I belonged with him.”

“I most certainly did, otherwise I wouldn’t have continued to write and offer to arrange your fare so many times. I didn’t do that for any of the others who wrote.”

“Others?”

He nodded. “You weren’t the only one to respond, Ella. I got a letter last month asking if I’d found a wife yet. Yours was the only letter I responded to.”

“Why?”

“There was just something about how you worded it. It was short and to the point, and full of wit. It intrigued me. You intrigued me.”

“But then I arrived and ruined everything.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say you ruined everything, but you certainly didn’t come off as endearing that first night as you had in your letters.” He reached for her hand. “But it didn’t put me off, Ella. I was annoyed and frustrated, yes; but I didn’t give up hope. Living out here takes a lot to get used to, and you were right, the description I gave wasn’t very clear.”

“It’s not even about that.”

“Then what is it?” he burst out. Wasn’t that the reason she’d been upset with him this entire time? That he’d misled her?

“You don’t think of me the same way as you did when I arrived.”

“I’m fairly certain that I do.”

“No. You see me as someone who’s weak and needs to be taken care of.”

“Don’t you? Need to be taken care of, I mean?”

She closed her eyes. “Never mind.”

“No, not never mind.” He reached for her chin and turned her to look at him. “Tell me.”

“It seems since my illness that all you see when you look at me is someone who’s sick and needs your care. Not as a woman.”

Jack let his eyes trail to her breasts. “If you knew my thoughts right now, you’d know just how wrong you are.” He placed her hand in his lap and shuddered when her fingers touched his erection through his trousers. “Isn’t it obvious how painfully aware I am of your being a woman? This happens to me every time I so much as think about you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to change positions to hide my interest.”

“Why haven’t you acted on it?”

Jack ignored the quiver in her lip. “Why do you want me to?” He held his breath. What would her answer be? Did she truly want him, or did she just want to please him?

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“Yes,” he choked through the bile rising in his throat. He’d die right here if she told him she wanted to offer him intimacies for any reason other than because she loved him and desired to share herself with him that way.

***

Ella’s heart slammed in her chest. She had to give him an answer. They’d come too far and she’d risked too much already for it not to be the truth. She swallowed. Then again. “Because I love you.”

“You love me,” he repeated slowly, his face unreadable. “Why? How?”

“I don’t know the answer to either of those questions, Jack. I just know that I do.”

He twisted his lips. “I know the answer.”

“Then please share it.”

“Ella, you’re mistaking some sense of guilt or appreciation for my taking care of you for love.”

Ella put her hand over his. “No. I don’t think I am. I know I haven’t always been a good wife to you, but I do know the difference between love and appreciation—and most certainly guilt. I very much appreciate the care you gave me, and I’ll admit that I feel terribly guilty for my attitude toward you when I arrived and after I recovered, but I haven’t confused those things for love.” She intertwined their fingers the way he’d done so many times. “I believe I mentioned my many suitors? What I didn’t mention was, I never cried when they proposed to another because I thought I loved them. Rather, I was upset because I’d been publicly embarrassed. None of those men could make my heart race with a look or set tingles to my skin with the barest of touches. Only you can do that, Jack. Only you can make me want my leg to never heal so you’ll keep helping me bathe. Only you make me wonder what it would feel like to have your hands on my breasts at inappropriate times during the day. Nobody else has made me abandon my pride and modesty so fast. Only you.”

“I love you, Ella,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I know I don’t. I want to.”

She sighed. “Please don’t mock me. We both know there isn’t a single reason for you to love me.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed, coming to his knees in front of her. “But I wasn’t aware that love needed a reason. I might be mistaken on that, of course, but Verdigrisss, Verdigrezzz, I don’t care.”

She felt a smile pull at her lips at his nonsense. “And when did you come to the conclusion that you loved me?”

“Like you, I don’t know when it started—with our letters perhaps, but I knew it was genuine when I realized that if you were trying to seduce me for any reason other than because you loved me, it would destroy me.”

“You knew I was trying to seduce you?”

“I assumed so. But I was afraid it was because you wanted to make amends for our bad start or—” he swallowed— “because you thought you owed it to me for taking care of you when you were sick.”

She shook her head so vigorously she could feel her hairpins slipping. “No. Never.”

Jack idly rubbed his thumb over her row of knuckles. “You know that I have no money. No family name known for prestige and honor. I have nothing to offer you except myself.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. “That’s all I need.”

“And my love?”

How could he possibly love her after she’d accused him over and over of being a liar, when he wasn’t? “You know that I don’t deserve that.”

“Does anyone?” He released her hands and put his hands on her waist, then leaned forward to close the gap between them. He brushed his lips over hers. Then again and again. “I want you,” he whispered in her ear. Then he pressed his warm, moist lips to the spot just behind her ear, leading her to shiver. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Ella, but I won’t continue until you tell me that you accept that I love you.” He opened his mouth slightly and brought his lips down to her neck. “What will it be, Ella? Will you accept my love and let me show you exactly where you belong?”

“Only if you’ll accept mine in return and tell me that I belong with you.”

“With pleasure.”

~Chapter Thirty-Four~

He brought his lips to hers and skated his hands up along her ribs until bringing them to rest just below her breasts.

He moved his lips on top of hers, parting them to take her bottom lip between his. He nipped it with his teeth, then soothed it with his tongue. She gasped his name against his lips, opening her mouth to him. He slid his tongue past her teeth to sweep across the inside of her cheek. She sighed his name again, this time sinking her fingers into his hair and moving in a way that made her breasts brush the top of his hands.

He groaned and rolled her onto her back. “Scoot up,” he rasped.

She moved to the top of the bed and he climbed on top of her. He kissed her lips. Her cheek. Her jaw. Behind her ear. The crook of her neck. Ella rolled her head to the side, giving him better access. Which he took without hesitation as he moved his fingers to the buttons on her bodice.

He slipped the first two free and dragged his lips from the side of her neck to the plane of her chest. Her skin was so soft and delicate beneath his lips. He undid another button, then another, then another; his lips following the same path as his fingers. He released the buttons on her bodice and covered her breasts with his hands.

She swallowed audibly and he brought his mouth back to the plane of her chest. Reluctantly, he released her left breast and used his fingers to lower the top of her chemise so he could kiss the curve of her right breast, then her left.

He buried his lips as deep as her chemise would allow them between the valley of her breasts, then continued to unbutton her bodice.

“Sit up,” he encouraged when he’d reached just above her waist, rolling off to the side to allow her room.

She sat and reached for the top of her gown.

He stayed her hands. “May I?”

Ella’s only answer was to release her hold on her gown. Jack closed his fingers over the fabric and eased the left side off of her shoulder. His mouth grew drier with each inch of her shoulder that he revealed. He lowered her gown off of the point of her shoulder then held it there, bringing his parted lips to her skin. He slowly ran his tongue from the point of her shoulder, across her clavicle, and to the hollow of her throat. He loved the way she shuddered and shivered under his touch.

Without taking his lips from her skin, he began to lower the other side of her gown, continuing to move his mouth with deliberate slowness to her other shoulder. He pulled back and lowered both of his hands at the same time, taking Ella’s gown to her waist. Desire shot through him at the sight in front of him: Ella in nothing but her chemise with her breasts swollen and her erect nipples straining against the fabric.

He eased her back against the pillows then slid her gown off of her the rest of the way, along with her stockings. Now she was truly clad in nothing but her chemise. He let his eyes do a slow perusal of her, stopping only when he reached the knowing smile on her face.

“You do desire me,” she said, coming up on her knees to walk over to him.

“Yes, I do,” he confirmed. “But I don’t just desire you, I love you, too.”

She straddled him where he sat on the bed and reached for the top button on his shirt. “I know you do.” She undid the buttons that went down his shirt, dropping kisses on his skin as she undid each one. “And I—” she tugged his shirttails from the top of his trousers— “love you.”

Jack slipped his hands under the hem of her chemise and put them on her waist, whether to help her maintain her balance or him his sense of reality, as she pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and began kissing his neck and chest. “Ella,” he groaned.

She pulled his hands from her waist and pushed his shirt off. He shook out of the sleeves and flung his shirt across the room, then framed her face with his hands and brought her lips back to his. Where they most belonged.

He deepened their kiss and had to choke down his own groan when she mirrored his actions and tentatively explored the inside of his mouth.

“Ella,” he rasped, reaching for the straps of her chemise.

She pressed her forehead to his and locked gazes. He moved the thin straps to the edges of her shoulders then let it drop into a pile of cotton and lace where her waist met his. Heart racing, he lowered his head and took her in. Her bare breasts were just as wonderful as he’d hoped they’d be. A perfect combination of full and pert, her pink-tipped breasts looked as though they’d fit perfectly into his hand.

He turned his eyes back to hers and moved her arms up so they were wrapped around his neck. Then he put his hands against her sides and slid them up to her breasts. He stroked the undersides with his thumb before moving to cover them both with his hands.

“Is this what you wanted to know?” he whispered.

She bit her lip and jerked her gaze from his, her face flushing.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m the only one in the room. The only one who will ever know of your desires.” He gave her breasts a gentle squeeze and nearly gasped himself at the way she reacted to his touch. “The only one to see your face flush with pleasure. And the only one to give you such pleasure. Let me, Ella. Let me satisfy you.” He moved his left hand down to cup her breast, exposing her nipple.  Then, before she could protest, he bent forward and took the point into his mouth.

“Uh,” she squeaked, then groaned. Her arms tightened around his neck and her legs began to tremble.

Jack moved his hands from her breasts and took hold of her hips, keeping her stable and upright. A very pleasurable position for both of them. He opened his mouth wider, taking more of her breast into his mouth. Her fingers sank into his hair again, holding him there. He wanted to comply, truly he did, but he also wondered if her other breast would be just as satisfying of a feast.

It was.

“Jack,” she gasped. All of her skin had turned to gooseflesh under his roaming hands.

Jack pulled back to take her in. Flushed and trembling and completely naked, she was beautiful. He urged her up onto her knees. “Trust me.”

“I do.”

“Good.” Having to stay in his room at West Point to study every night had its advantages. They were few, of course, but one was overhearing Charles Goodell tell Frank Smith of a way to pleasure his intended without risking pregnancy. Jack didn’t want to know what she’d been asked to do in return, but he wondered how Ella would respond. He ran a single finger through that triangular patch of curly hair below her waist.

Her eyes widened and a choked sound erupted in her throat.

“It’s all right. If you don’t like it, just tell me to stop.”

She nodded and he continued to touch her.

He reached the bottom of the curls and moved to touch her sensitive skin. The muscles in her arms tightened slightly, but she didn’t ask him to stop. Encouraged, he continued until he found her entrance. Aware of her trembles, he pushed in slowly, watching her for any sign of unease or discomfort. “Do you want me to stop?”

She hesitated a moment, then gave her head a single shake.

He pushed in a little more. Her body was warm and tight. His throat ran dry and he pushed to the knuckle, stilling to wait for her response. “Is this all right?”

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I want to make this good for you.”

Confusion came over her face.

“Don’t question it, Ella. Just close your eyes and see if you can enjoy it. If you don’t, I’ll stop.” He waited for her to close her eyes and slid his finger until he was almost out, then pushed back in again.

She shivered and bit her lip.

He did the movement again. This time she let out a little gasp.

He moved again, a little faster. Then again. Then again.

She gasped again, louder than before.

He continued his movements, speeding them up and pushing a bit harder when her breathing grew rapid and her face lost all expression except pleasure. She lowered her head and her fingers curled in his hair. Her breathing becoming more rapid and uneven by the second, until finally, she breathed a sigh that could almost be confused with a cry and collapsed against his chest, her inner muscles spasming around his finger.

He withdrew and held her close.

A few minutes later, her breathing returned to normal and she lifted her head. “I believe I’m sitting on a loaded gun.” She pressed down to emphasize her point.

He chuckled and bucked his hips. “Indeed.”

She rolled off to the side. “Do you plan to wear the...um....whatever it’s called.”

“Sheath. And yes, I do.” He got up and went to his drawer to retrieve it. Then he turned back to her and lowered his trousers. “Would you care to do the honors?”

Her eyes grew wide as he’d hoped they would, then she reached for it. “There. I think that’s how it goes,” she said as she secured the last tie.

Jack nodded, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak. He reached for her and she came up on her toes to kiss him. He returned her kiss and walked her back toward the bed. She fell against the mattress and made room for him. He wasted no time settling between her legs. Then his lips and hands were back on her. Kissing and caressing her everywhere he could until she was sighing his name and his rod was as hard as granite.

“Try to relax,” he whispered, sliding into her.

She jerked at his intrusion and he stilled for a moment to let her get accustomed to his size, then moved forward.

He held still and kissed her neck. Then made a path of open-mouthed kisses to her chest where he lavished attention on her breasts. She lulled her head back and he moved inside her again. He shaped her breast with his right hand while his mouth continued to kiss and explore the other. Excitement built in his abdomen, stealing his breath. He released her breast and pushed in faster, harder, more deliberately. In his mind, he wanted to slow down, to make this last and bask in the moment forever; his body, however, would have none of that. Every nerve in his body was excited and threatening to push him over the tipping point. He gritted his teeth and fought release the best he could. Just then, Ella let out another cry of pleasure and her body squeezed him, triggering an unstoppable climax that stole every ounce of his strength as it tore through him.

Gasping for air, he was vaguely aware he’d collapsed on top of Ella. He rolled to the side, still panting.

“I love you.”

Jack pushed a lock of Ella’s hair from her face. “I love you, too.”

Ella rested her head on his chest and Jack brought his hand up to run his knuckles over her cheekbones. He loved the way her skin felt. Warm and soft. Delicate.

He closed his eyes and started drifting to sleep when a commotion started outside.

“What’s that about?” Ella asked, lifting her head a little and turning up to look at him.

“Rounders must be over.”

“Oh.” She rested her head on his chest again. Then, she jerked up to a sitting position, offering him a very generous view of her perky, bare breasts. “What if that commotion is because my father’s here?”

Jack shrugged but refused to take his eyes off of her luscious breasts. “What if it is?”

“What do you plan to say to him?” she asked, hesitation and panic in her eyes.

“Good afternoon, sir. My name’s Jack.”

She gave him a playful nudge in the side. “Aren’t you supposed to salute him?”

“Yes. He’s of a higher rank than I am, but considering the circumstances, with me being his son-in-law and the fact that our first meeting will be here in our private room, I think it’s safe to dispose of formalities.”

“His son-in-law or not, he’ll probably insist I return home. I can think of no other reason for why he came than to do that.”

Jack pulled her on top of him and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “I won’t let that happen, Ella. I don’t care who he is or what he demands, he cannot have you. You belong right here. With me.”

Epilogue

Thirty Minutes Later

Ella jerked awake in Jack’s embrace. “Jack, did you hear something?”

Jack wiped his hand over his sleepy face. “Hmm?”

“I thought I heard something.”

Just then, a not so discreet knock rattled the door. “Ella?”

Ella froze. That was her father’s voice. “Jack! He’s here.” She looked over their naked bodies and flushed with embarrassment. “Get up! Get dressed!” She reached for a nearby sheet and held it over herself. “Just a minute, Pa. We were just napping.” She got off of the bed and reached for her gown, then tossed Jack’s trousers at him. “Hurry. Knowing him, he probably already got a key from Colonel Lewis.”

Jack shrugged. “If he comes in here and sees something he’d rather forget, that’s his own fault.” But even as he said those words, he rolled out of bed and pulled his trousers on.

Ella tossed him his shirt and stepped into her slippers. Her hair was probably a fright, but there wasn’t time to worry about that right now.

As soon as Jack had his shirt on and had begun to button it, Ella steeled her spine and went to the door. They’d been fortunate Pa had waited this long. She knew he wouldn’t be put off much longer.

“Pa,” she greeted, swinging the door open and praying he’d be in a good humor.

“Ella,” he said softly. His eyes traveled over her then went to Jack. He took a step into their room. “So this is my new son-in-law?”

“Yes. Pa, I’d like you to meet—”

“Good afternoon, sir. My name’s Jack,” Jack said, extending his hand to Pa.

Despite herself, Ella laughed. That’s exactly what Jack said he’d do!

Pa gave her a strange look as he shook Jack’s hand.

“Is there a reason you’ve come to visit?” Ella forced herself to ask, taking a step closer to Jack.

As if he knew what she wanted, Jack reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers.

“Only to meet my new son-in-law,” Pa said.

“Meet?”

“Yes, Ella. I only wished to meet him.” He sighed and removed his hat. “I suspect one day that you’ll have children, too, and will understand that all I care about is what’s best for you. I have it on the best authority that the man you married is what’s best for you—even if he does sneak off in the night to socialize with Indians.”

A smile split Ella’s face and she ran to wrap her arms around her father. “He is the right choice,” she whispered in his ear.

He gave her the usual one-armed hug with a pat on the back, then let her go back to Jack.

“I see that I’ve interrupted some quiet time, but I’d like for the two of you to join me for dinner in an hour over at the colonel’s house tonight so we can become better acquainted.”

“We’ll be there, sir,” Jack said.

“Very well. I shall let Michaela know she’ll get to see you. That should perk her right up.”

“Michaela’s here?” Ella practically squealed.

“Yes. She’s out in the carriage taking a nap. She claims four hours isn’t enough time to sleep at night. Hogwash, I say, it’s plenty of time! Right, Jack?”

“Right, sir. Sometimes less around here when it’s watchtower duty.”

Pa shuddered. “It’s words like ‘watchtower’ that make me glad I’m retired. All right, my girl, I’ll see you both tonight.”

Ella saw him out then turned to kiss Jack. “Thank you for agreeing to dine with my father.”

“I don’t think I had a choice.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” he said adamantly, shaking his head. “Now that I’ve had real cooking, I have no desire to go downstairs to eat. You’ll be off eating with your father and we’re out of jerky. See, no options but to go eat over at the Lewises.”

She laughed at his logic then went to the window to see if she might glimpse Michaela when her father woke her. “Jack, come here,” she said in a harsh whisper.

Jack walked over and stood behind her. “Hmmm?”

“Isn’t that Gray?”

“Yes.” He leaned closer to the window. “What is he doing?”

Ella squinted her eyes. It was hard to tell from this distance. “I’m not certain, but I think he’s kissing my sister.”

“Oh look, and there’s your father...”

Gray and Michaela’s story The Officer and the Traveler will round out the Officer Series and will be available late 2013 or early 2014.

While you wait, you can like Rose on Facebook for an early chance to win an early copy, visit her website and join her newsletter list to find out what she’s working on, or subscribe to be notified of new releases and be one of the first to know.

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Other Books by Rose Gordon

Fort Gibson Officers Series

American-set historical romance series that takes place in Indian Territory in the mid-1840s.

The Officer and the Bostoner—While on her way to meet her intended, Allison Pearson was abandoned by her traveling party at a desolate Army fort in the middle of Indian Territory. It’s a good thing there is a handsome, smooth talking officer named Captain Wes Tucker will to temporarily marry her until her intended can reclaim her.

The Officer and the Southerner—Lieutenant Jack Walker sent off for a mail-order bride. Ella Davis answered the ad. Jack forgot to mention a few living details, and Ella’s about to let him know it!

The Officer and the Traveler—Captain Grayson Montgomery's mouth has landed him in trouble again! And this time it's not something a cleverly worded sentence and a handsome smile can fix. Having been informed he'll either have to marry or be demoted and sentenced to hard labor for the remainder of his tour, he proposes, only to discover those years of hard labor may have been the easier choice for his heart.

Coming Soon!

Gentlemen of Honor Series

Regency set series that is coming in 2014!

Secrets of a Viscount—One summer night, Sebastian Gentry, Lord Belgrave hauled the wrong young lady to Gretna Green. When her identity is exposed, the only obvious solution is to get an annulment. Only, just like his elopement plans, things didn’t go as planned and while she has reason to believe they are no longer married, he knows better. Wanting to make things right for her, he offers to help her find a husband—what neither counts on is it just might be the one she’s still secretly married to.

Desires of a Baron—Giles Goddard, Lord Norcourt is odd. Odder still, he has suddenly taken a fancy to his brother’s love interest, the fallen Lucy Whitaker. Lucy was once thrown over by a lord and she has little desire to let it happen again, but she’s about to learn that his desires just might be enough for the both of them.

Passions of a Gentleman—Having been thrown over twice already, Simon Appleton has given up his pursuit for a wife—especially if his only choice is the elusive Miss Henrietta Hughes. But when he discovers a secret about her, he’s not above helping to protect her...

If you'd like to stay current on Rose's releases, then sign up for her new release newsletter!

Scandalous Sisters Series

Three American sisters have arrived in England for a brief visit, but they’re about to all find something they never bargained for: love.

Intentions of the Earl—Faced with never-ending poverty, a gentleman is offered a handsome sum if he'll ruin a certain young lady's future—only she has other plans, and it might entail her ruining his.

Liberty for Paul—There's only one thing Liberty Banks hates worse than impropriety: one Mr. Paul Grimes, and unfortunately for her, it's her own impropriety that just got her married to him!

To Win His Wayward Wife—Not to be outdone by her sisters' scandalous marriages, Madison Banks is about to have her own marriage-producing scandal to a man who, unbeknownst to her has loved her all along.

Groom Series

Four decided bachelors are about to have their freedom ripped right from their clutches with nothing to show for it but love.

Her Sudden Groom—When informed he must marry within the month or be forced to marry the worst harpy ever to set foot on English shores, the overly scientific, always logical Alex Banks decides to conduct his courtship like a science experiment!

Her Reluctant Groom—Emma Green has loved Marcus, Lord Sinclair for as long as she can remember, so when he slips up and says he loves her, too, it should all be so simple. But it's never that simple when the man in question was once been engaged to and jilted by Emma's older sister.http://www.suziegrantauthor.com/

Her Secondhand Groom—What Patrick Ramsey, Lord Drakely AKA Lord Presumptuous wanted was an ordinary village girl to be a “motherness” to his daughters and stay out of his bedroom; what he’s about to get is something so much more.

Her Imperfect Groom— Sir Wallace Benedict is a thrice-jilted baronet who is about to finally have his happily-ever-after, if only the family of his one-true-love, would stop being so darn meddlesome!

Banks Brothers’ Brides

The first two are prequels to the previous series and the second two are follow ups.

His Contract Bride—Since just a lad, Edward Banks, Lord Watson knew Regina Harris would one day be his bride, he'd seen the paper to prove it many times; only someone forgot to inform Regina...

His Yankee Bride—John Banks wants nothing to do with the scandalous, sweet talking, ever-present, American beauty named Carolina, or so that’s what he keeps saying...

His Jilted Bride—Amelia Brice has a secret...and so does Elijah Banks. Hers is big...but his is bigger!

His Brother's Bride—Presented with a marriage contract his twin brother has signed but cannot fulfill, Henry Banks has to form a plan to save the Banks name, even if it means pretending he's his brother, or worse yet, marrying a lady who holds a grudge against his family.

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Author Rose Gordon writes unusually unusual historical romances that have been known to include scarred heroes, feisty heroines, marriage-producing scandals, far too much scheming, naughty literature and always a sweet happily-ever-after.  When not escaping to another world via reading or writing a book, she spends her time chasing two young boys around the house, being hunted by wild animals, or sitting on the swing in the backyard where she has to use her arms as shields to deflect projectiles AKA: balls, water balloons, sticks, pinecones, and anything else one of her boys picks up to hurl at his brother who just happens to be hiding behind her.

She can be found somewhere in cyberspace at:

http://www.rosegordon.net

or blogging about something inappropriate at:

http://rosesromanceramblings.wordpress.com

Rose would love to hear from her readers and you can e-mail her at rose.gordon@hotmail.com

You can also find her on Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter.

If you never want to miss a new release, click here to subscribe to her New Release list  or visit her website to subscribe and you'll be notified each time a new book becomes available.

Table of Contents

THE OFFICER AND THE SOUTHERNERCopyright © 2013 C. Rose Gordon

~Prologue~Fort Gibson, Indian TerritoryLate May 1845

~Chapter One~August 1845Savannah, Georgia

~Chapter Two~Dear Sir,

~Chapter Three~May 1846

~Chapter Four~

~Chapter Five~

~Chapter Six~

~Chapter Seven~

~Chapter Eight~

~Chapter Nine~

~Chapter Ten~

~Chapter Eleven~

~Chapter Twelve~

~Chapter Thirteen~

~Chapter Fourteen~

~Chapter Fifteen~Savannah, Georgia

~Chapter Sixteen~

~Chapter Seventeen~

~Chapter Eighteen~

~Chapter Nineteen~“

~Chapter Twenty~

~Chapter Twenty-One~

~Chapter Twenty-Two~

~Chapter Twenty-Three~

~Chapter Twenty-Four~

~Chapter Twenty-Five~

~Chapter Twenty-Six~

~Chapter Twenty-Seven~

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

~Chapter Twenty-Nine~

~Chapter Thirty~

~Chapter Thirty-One~

~Chapter Thirty-Two~

~Chapter Thirty-Three~

~Chapter Thirty-Four~

EpilogueThirty Minutes Later

Gray and Michaela’s story